He was on pretty good terms with his cousin, and usually went down to Devonshire for a few days during the shooting season, and on more than one occasion had Sir Jasper spoken to him of the future career of young Arthur; but the lawyer generally managed to evade the subject by saying there was plenty of time to think about that when the youngster should leave College, and appeared to interest himself very little in the matter, because he did not see in what way the youth's future career could affect him; that Sir Jasper might assist Arthur with his interest, at the outset, and perhaps give him a couple of hundred pounds to help him on in his profession or calling, he did not at all doubt; but beyond this Ralph did not believe the Baronet would assist him. "Ah!" said the Attorney, as he took up the fourth letter and glanced at the postmark, "from Devonshire, and the handwriting is that of Mrs. Fraudhurst; what can that maneuvering woman have to communicate? but we shall see, we shall see," and at once opened the letter. The contents were evidently not of an agreeable character, for his brow darken and his lips were firmly compressed as he read the long and closely written epistle. At its conclusion he moved for a few seconds uneasily in his chair, then re-folded the letter and placed it carefully in his pocketbook. With his head resting on his hand he remained sometime in deep thought; presently his brow became clear and, turning to his desk, wrote rapidly for the space of an hour. "Scrubbins," said he, addressing his confidential (and only) clerk, "I am going to Devonshire, but will return the day after to-morrow; you will find your instructions on my desk, and now give me the deeds; and remember, should any one enquire for me tell them I am gone to the country on business, and shall be back the day after to-morrow," and without farther comment, Ralph Coleman passed out of the office. It was a still, calm night in early autumn, the silvery moon looked down from her deep violet throne amidst the starry heavens; the dull, heavy sound made by the mighty ocean, as its huge waves were dashed upon the sea-beat shore, fell audibly on the ear in the silent night. A light sea breeze swept through the furze bushes that were scattered over the Downs, across which lay the high road leading past the Park. Bridoon, the old gate keeper, was seated on his wooden settle within the porch of the lodge, smoking a long clay pipe, and occasionally quaffing long draughts of rare old cider. He was just thinking of turning in for the night, when a vehicle stopped, and a voice demanded admittance. As the gates swung open a gig and its occupant passed through and proceeded at a smart pace along the broad avenue towards the mansion.