In the whirl of our incessant activity it has often been difficult for me, as the reader has probably observed, to round off my narratives, and to give those final details which the curious might expect. Each case has been the prelude to another, and the crisis once over the actors have passed for ever out of our busy lives. I find, however, a short note at the end of my manuscripts dealing with this case, in which I have put it upon record that Miss Violet Smith did indeed inherit a large fortune, and that she is now the wife of Cyril Morton, the senior partner of Morton and Kennedy, the famous Westminster electricians. Williamson and Woodley were both tried for abduction and assault, the former getting seven years and the latter ten. Of the fate of Carruthers I have no record, but I am sure that his assault was not viewed very gravely by the Court, since Woodley had the reputation of being a most dangerous ruffian, and I think that a few months were sufficient to satisfy the demands of justice. "_Happy Evenings._" Ordinarily the High Street fairly stewed with juvenile humanity. But to-night, for a wonder, the High Street, Plimsoll Lane, Byles's Rents, and all the adjacent squalid courts and avenues were deserted. Something more than a mild fog was needed to effect such a transformation out of school hours. Neither was there evidence, ocular or auricular, of any hand-organ, or a trained bear, or a free fight enlivening the neighbourhood. How was it possible to account for the peaceful condition of the streets? Surely the ordinary denizens of the gutter couldn't be at school? Well, not exactly at school, but at the school-house. A ragged little urchin of seven volunteered to be our pilot. "'Appy evenin'? Yessir, I'm goin' there myself. I'll show you." "What's your name, my boy?" "Saunders, sir; but they allers calls me 'Magsie,' all along o' my twin-sister wot uz named Marguerite." "And why isn't your little sister with you to-night?" "'Cos she got scarlet fever." "Scarlet fever? Good gracious, boy!" "An' she died--more'n a year ago." "Oh, I see." "The lidy wot we calls the Countess 's goin' to be at the 'Appy Evenin' to-night. Look! That's 'er--see--with the 'at an' the little black fevvers." We proved to be just in time. Several ladies and gentlemen had doffed their furs and overcoats, and stood smiling at one end of a large school-room, whilst in the middle some two or three hundred meanly-clad, but clean and happy-looking, children of all ages under twelve or thirteen trooped along merrily to the notes of a piano in the corner. "This is our overture," explained the gentle-eyed lady with the "fevvers." "We always begin this way and they seem to enjoy it." She raised her jewelled finger and the music stopped. So did the promenaders. There was a silence, punctuated by giggles, as the Countess observed, "And now for our games this evening. What girls for the quiet room?" [Illustration: A PRELIMINARY SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY.