"I say, Wentworth, it's uncommon rum to think, if that yarn is true, that L'Estrange was so much at his own house without knowing it! that you and he should have been after the same girl; and what made you the happiest of men, made him the most miserable." "It is more than strange; now that all is laid open I sometimes wonder the idea never struck me. His age, likeness to poor John, extraordinary early career,--so many points of resemblance! It is hard still to fancy him, not only my brother, but eldest brother; his associations too with Ellen are so curious! I see it is a painful subject to her; so I may give you the hint now to say little about it." "Yes, by Jove! for though she was free to love whom she liked best, and was very wise to make choice of you, there is no possible doubt but that her refusal drove him distracted. After all, she got hold of the wrong man!" The Marquis laughed; but Lord Wentworth was apparently little inclined for humour, and did not join in the joke. "Let's have a squint at these papers," said the former. "I only just glanced at them last night; we shall see at once if they are forgeries or not. I wish, i' faith, they would turn out so, as you are determined to act like a fool." Without replying, the Earl led the way to his study. The window was open,--the desk, unfinished letter, everything exactly as he had left it. There was, however, something present which excited his surprise, and this was a large case of mahogany left on his table, and a letter on the lid. "By Saint Patrick, the Countess's jewel-box!" exclaimed the Marquis. "This grows stranger and stranger," said the Earl, as he found his bureau burst open, and the papers gone. "Are you sure you put them there?" asked the Marquis. "Sure as death! There is some vile conspiracy yet! If they break faith with me our contract is ended; but let us read this letter." "A d--d cramped piece of penmanship,' as the poet says," remarked Lord Arranmore; "can you read it, Wentworth? I am not very clever at decyphering these hieroglyphics." "I will try; let us see,--it runs something like this:--'My Lord: The jewels are turfed again, but the papers was gave in a hurry, and are taken away. Think no more on last night, but forget you ever ran foul of Bill Stacy!" "The villain is too clever by half," said the Marquis, "but really I am uncommonly well pleased it has turned out so; now you can have no possible excuse for making a noise. Take the writer's advice if you are wise, for whoever he be his advice is sound and good." "I am really perplexed what I should do: I must go and talk it over with the Countess; meantime we must inform the authorities here about the savage murder last night, but I will not let out a word about my midnight adventure. If you will take a weed, I will go and see Ellen, and join you again presently."