"Read it last night!" repeated Larcher skeptically. "In this book," said Tait, laying his hand on the novel. "What do you mean?" demanded the other impatiently. "I mean that John Parver, the author of this book, has utilized the events which took place at Horriston in 1866 for the purpose of writing a work of fiction. The story you tell me is told in these pages, and your family tragedy is the talk of literary London." CHAPTER VI. TRUTH IS STRANGER THAN FICTION. THIS astonishing statement was received by Claude with a disbelieving smile; and so convinced was he of its untruth that he affected anger at what he really believed to be the flippancy of Tait's conduct. "It is no doubt very amusing for you to ridicule my story," said he, with cold dignity, "but it is hardly the act of a friend. Some matters are too serious to form the subject of a jest; and this----" "I am not jesting," interrupted Tait eagerly. "I assure you that the tragedy which concerned your parents forms the subject-matter of this novel. You can read the book yourself, and so be convinced that I am speaking the truth. The names and places are no doubt fictional, but the whole story is narrated plainly enough." Larcher turned over the three volumes with a puzzled expression. That a story with which he had only become acquainted within the last twenty-four hours should be printed in a book, and that the book itself should be brought so speedily under his notice, seemed to him quite inexplicable. The strangeness of the occurrence paralyzed his will, and, contrary to his usual self-dependence, he looked to Tait for guidance. "What do you think of it?" he asked irresolutely. "Ah! That requires some consideration, my friend. But before we go into the matter let us understand our position toward each other. You believe this story of your father's death?" "Certainly. Mr. Hilliston would not tell me an untruth, and moreover this bundle of extracts from provincial newspapers confirms his statement. I truly believe that my father, George Larcher, was murdered at Horriston in 1866 by--and there you have me--I know not by whom. My own opinion is that Jeringham is----" "One moment, Claude! Let us settle all preliminaries. Are you resolved to take up this matter!" "I am! I must clear the memory of my mother, and avenge the death of my father." "Would it not be better to let sleeping dogs lie?" suggested Tait, with some hesitation. "I do not think so," replied Claude quietly. "I am not a sentimental man, as you know; and my nature is of too practical a kind to busy itself with weaving ropes of sand. Yet in this instance I feel that it is my duty to hunt down and punish the coward who killed my father. When I find him, and punish him, this ghost of '66 will be laid aside; otherwise, it will continue to haunt and torture me all my life." "But your business?"