So when they parted, Lionel Hammerton’s brotherly kiss sent no thrill to Amy’s heart, though she knew it was his intention never to return. Lord Verner shook his brother warmly by the hand, begging him to come home as soon as he liked and as often. Mrs. Arthur Phillips kissed him for “Auld Lang Syne;” and her husband, the artist, exchanged a sympathetic glance with the friend of his early days, which deeply affected the voluntary exile. Mrs. Dibble, who was living in the housekeeper’s room until Thomas should be released, begged to be allowed to shake hands with the Captain, and she told the servants afterwards that it did not need a boarding-school education to see that the Earl’s brother was born nobility, and that you need not be a builder’s daughter and copy specifications to know that Mr. Bales was a policeman in disguise, as he stood by all the time without the least emotion, for all the world as if a trial had just come to an end and the prisoner was going to be hanged, and he had the job of taking him back to gaol prior to the sentence being carried out. Mr. Bales travelled as far as London with the Captain, and almost the first person he met, after seeing Lionel off, was Mr. Williamson, the barrister, walking into the Temple. The two recognised each other immediately. “Ah, Mr. Williamson, sir! how do you do? I thought you were lost,” said the detective. “No, not lost, Bales,” said the barrister, extending his hand. “Come with me.” It was evening, and the detective followed his friend up the dark staircase. When they reached the barrister’s room, Williamson produced a latch key, and opened the door; the old woman who attended to this part of the chambers came blundering after them, full of exclamations of joy at seeing the barrister again. “Light a fire,” said the barrister. “Lor, sir, the room is as damp as can be; it ain’t fit to sit in after all these months; they wanted to break the door open, but I paid the rent regular out of the money you sent me, and I knowed, of course, as you would come back some day,” said the woman. “I never expected to do so, or only for a day, to settle my affairs here and give up the chambers properly,” said the barrister, addressing Bales, in reply to the woman. “Lor, sir!” said the old woman, bustling about and lighting the fire and putting the table to rights. “We can keep the damp out,” said the barrister, “if there is any whisky left.” “O yes, sir, plenty!” said the woman. “Very well,” said the barrister, producing his cigar case, and in a very short time Mr. Bales sat listening to those portions of Mr. Williamson’s story with which he was not already acquainted.