“That I will expose my father in a court of justice,” said Mark, between his teeth; “that I will put money in one scale, and the honour of my house in the other; that I will truck the name and credit of my race, against the acres that were theirs. No, no; you mistake me much; you know little of the kind of vengeance my heart yearns for, or you would never have tempted me with such a bait as this.” “Be it so,” said Talbot, coolly; “Hemsworth is only the luckier man that has met such a temperament as yours to deal with; a vulgar spirit like mine would have turned the tables upon him. But I have done; keep the paper, Mark, there might come a time when it should prove useful to you. Hark!--what's that noise below? Don't you hear that fellow Lawless voice in the court-yard?”--and as he spoke, the voice of the host, Billy Crossley, raised very high above its usual pitch, called out-- “I tell you, gentlemen, Mr. Talbot is not in the house; he dined out to-day, and has not returned since dinner.” A confused murmur followed this announcement; and again Crossley said, but in a still louder tone-- “You have perfect liberty to look for him wherever you please; don't say that I gave you any impediment or hindrance; follow me--I'll show you the way.” Talbot knew in a moment the intention of the speaker, and recognized in Crossley's vehemence an urgent warning to himself. “I'm tracked, Mark,” cried he; “there, take that key--burn the papers in that desk--all of them. At seven to-morrow, meet me on the strand; if all be safe, I'll be true to time; if not----” The remainder of his sentence was cut short by the hurrying sounds of feet upon the stairs, and Crossley's voice, which in its loudest key continued to protest that Talbot was not in the house, nor had he seen him since dinner. Mark hastily unlocked the desk and took out the papers, but when he turned round, Talbot was gone; a tremulous motion of the tapestry on the wall seemed to indicate that his escape had been made through some secret door behind it. He had no time, however, to think further of the circumstance, for scarcely had he applied the lighted candle to the papers, when the door was burst violently open, and three strange men, followed by Lanty Lawler, entered the room, while Crossley, whom they had pushed roughly aside, stood without, on the lobby, still talking as loudly as before. “Is that him?” said one of the fellows, who seemed like a constable in plain clothes. “No,” whispered Lanty, as he skulked behind the shoulder of the speaker; “that's another gentleman.” “Were you alone in this apartment?” said the same man who spoke first, as he addressed Mark in the tone of authority. “It is rather for me to ask what business you have to come here?” replied Mark, as he continued to feed the flames with the letters and papers before him. [Illustration: 334]