"Ring for Jo-si-ah, and to send our Joseph to book three seats for the coach." "But Mr Barclay? Must you tell him--now?" faltered Claire. "Why, of course, my dear, or we may be too late. Do you know that some one else is evidently making plans?" "What do you mean?" cried Claire excitedly. "We know a great deal here, my dear. My husband has to keep an eye upon the slippery people who borrow money of him; and there was a hint brought here to-day that a certain gentleman was going to elope to-night with a certain lady, and the idea was that you were the lady. We know it was Sir Harry Payne." Claire caught at her friend's arm as she went on. "But I said `No;' it is only a miserable scandal, based upon that wretched business at your house. `It's Mrs Burnett,' I said, `if it's anyone.' Claire, my dear, she is in this dreadful fix, and she is going off to-night with that fop to escape from it." Claire's lips parted as she looked at the speaker in horror, realising it all now, and reading May's excuse to gain time. For a moment the deceit and cruelty of the act seemed too horrible; but she was now thoroughly realising the nature of her sister, and was so agitated that she felt almost paralysed as she stood gazing straight before her. "I cannot believe it, Mrs Barclay," she said at last. "It is too terrible. My poor sister would never be so base." "Go at once, my dear. Stand no nonsense with the little thing. I'll settle it all with my Jo-si-ah. You bring her here." Claire was white as ashes now, as she caught Mrs Barclay's hands and kissed them. "No, no, my dear; not my hands. There, go, and heaven bless you. We'll help you through it, never fear." She folded Claire in her arms for a moment, and then hurried with her downstairs, and let her out. "One moment, my dear," she whispered, detaining her, to thrust her purse in her hand. "Stop for nothing. Bring her here; drag her if she says she will not come. Say anything, but bring her here." "Ah!" sighed Mrs Barclay, as she watched Claire disappear down the street, and then closed the door. "Now for Jo-si-ah." Volume Three, Chapter V. THE MASTER OF THE CEREMONIES IS STUNG. Josiah Barclay was in his business room when his wife returned, panting and wiping her eyes, and he gave her one of his grim looks. "Well, old woman, I was right, wasn't I?" "No, Jo-si-ah." "Then you didn't get it all out of her?" "Oh, yes, everything, dear. She told me all, and it is that wicked-- wicked little woman, May." She told him all that had passed, and he stood and stared at her, blowing out his cheeks, and then looking his hardest. "Let me see," he said, when she had done speaking. "May Burnett is, of course, my own child by my first wife." "Jo-si-ah! Why, you never had no first wife." "Nonsense, woman."