Rees was already wishing her or himself at the bottom of the sea. Overwhelmed with shame and anger at his own conduct, he bade her as hasty a farewell as she would allow, returning her passionate kisses with embraces so reluctant and perfunctory that if she had not been so infatuated they must have chilled her own warmth. Then, when she had left him and disappeared through a little side-gate into the park, he crept, with slow feet and hanging head, towards Goodhare’s lodging. The librarian was enjoying a frugal supper of a couple of poached eggs, a slice of bread and butter, and a glass of milk; and as he ate he studied a heavy, much-used volume of Cicero. The young man shut up the book impetuously and flung himself into a chair opposite to Amos. “I’ve found the entrance to the passage, I believe,” said he, “a wide grating under two feet of earth, with a couple of stone steps to be seen underneath.” Amos started up with an exclamation of triumph. “And I ought to be able to take full advantage of it, for I’m on my way to become a very finished scoundrel.” He related the incidents of his discovery and of his interview with Lady Marion. Goodhare listened with the ugly look of covetousness in his eyes which had sometimes shocked Rees before now. When he had finished, Amos burst out into a laugh of hideous, satyr-like raillery. “Don’t pretend to be ashamed of your conquest; that sort of modesty doesn’t deceive me. And I won’t distress you by asking for any details of the interview.” Rees started up, his face flushed, his hair disordered, his whole bearing speaking of shame for himself, but also of indignation against his companion. “You are making me a thief, Amos; you are making me a rascal; but you have not yet made me forget that I was born a gentleman,” said he. The next moment, Amos meanwhile going on quietly with his poached eggs and bread and butter, the poor lad seemed to realize what an empty boast it was that he had uttered so proudly, and he sank down again in his chair and buried his face in his hands. But the fascination of the hidden treasure soon came over him again, driving out all other thoughts and feelings. Springing up once more, and leaning across the table to make his words more emphatic, he whispered: “Goodhare, it’s all up with us. I left the grating exposed, and forgot to fill up the hole in the earth above it!” Amos had the wit to hide part of what he felt; but he betrayed enough to show Rees a little more of the demoniacal side of his character. The two men parted that night with hearts and minds burdened with the deepest anxiety. The poking about with a stick of a couple of Mrs. Crow’s children might reveal enough to set the neighborhood talking and prying, and then good-bye to visions of a golden independence. CHAPTER VIII.