Casterwell lies--as every one knows or should know, seeing that it is one of the prettiest villages in the home counties--amongst the Berkshire hills, some ten miles from Reading. Lord Aldean's cart was waiting for himself and his friend. Mallow walked leisurely out of the station into the sunshine, and watched the porter transfer his portmanteau to Aldean's groom. Whilst he was standing on the edge of the pavement a plump little man, rosy in face and neat in dress, stopped short before him. He carried a black bag, but dropped this to hold out a friendly hand to Mallow. "Well, well," he chirped, just like an amiable robin; "and who would have thought of seeing you here, Mr. Mallow? You're here on business, I presume?" "I have come down to stay with Lord Aldean at Casterwell, Mr. Dimbal," replied Mallow, graciously. "Miss Bellairs' busi---- Ah, here is his lordship. How d'ye do, my lord? On the road to Casterwell, eh? I'm going there myself." "To see Miss Bellairs, did you say?" asked Mallow, impatiently. "There's nothing wrong, I hope?" "Good gracious, no. Why should there be anything wrong?" "Why, indeed," said Aldean, laughing. "Lawyers and wrong never go together." "Ha, ha! very good, my lord; but we are a much-maligned profession. No, Mr. Mallow, nothing is wrong with Miss Bellairs. On the contrary, everything is very right. I bring her the good news that Mr. Carson has arrived." "Oh," said Mallow, with a glance at Aldean, "have you seen him?" "Yes, he called yesterday at my office, and to-morrow he comes to Casterwell to see his future wife. Well, well; good-day, good-day, I see my fly, I must be off. Good-day, Mr. Mallow; my lord, good-day," and the little lawyer bustled off. "So Carson isn't the sandal-wood man, after all," observed Aldean. "No, God forgive me! I wish he were," replied Mallow, and frowned. CHAPTER II. THE SEALED LETTER.