A bend in the path, and it was gone. He ran forward to the spot where the figure had disappeared. But all was silent. There was nothing whatever to be

seen.

He dashed his hand across his eyes. Could he have been mistaken twice in one night?

There seemed nothing for it now but to go home, and creep up-stairs so that no one might hear.

But again his plans were frustrated. There was a bright light in the passage, and as he crossed the landing, the night nurse came out of his father's room.

She started violently on seeing Réné.

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Master Réné!" she ejaculated.

"Hush!" and he held his finger to his lips. "Hush -there is nothing the matter!"

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'What is it?" asked the invalid's voice.

Nothing, sir. Only Master Réné was in the pas

sage."

"Tell him to come in."

The nurse beckoned to him, and he heard his father coughing convulsively. He went forward, and Simon saw that he was in outdoor things.

"And what is the meaning of this, my boy?'

66 I'll tell you about it to-morrow, papa," he returned, softly.

"No-tell me now! I can't sleep-shall not sleep for a couple of hours at least. Well?"

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"I am afraid I have been doing wrong, papa!"

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"Ah! Nurse, give him a cup of tea if you have it ready. Well, Réné?”

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'Joan was so awfully cut up that she had never wished Uncle Alan good-by, that we-that I-it was all my fault-persuaded her to go with me to find him.” The man looked at his son curiously.

"We saw something-at least we think we did-but I can't be sure of anything, and the worst was that poor old Joan was so dreadfully frightened.”

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You wish that you had left your investigations alone?"

"I know I had no business to take Joan. I might have gone by myself!"

"Do you intend to look me up when I take my departure?'

"I don't think I should be afraid of you, papa!"

"Thank you! I will remember-if they will let me come!" Simon smiled cynically. "Ah, here is the tea! You can join us in our nightly festivities for once."

Joan, likewise, did not succeed in escaping to bed without observation. Even as she locked the door she saw her aunt coming from the library with some books under her arm.

"Oh-hold me tight! As tight as ever you can!"

cried the child, miserably.

"My dear, where can you have been?"

She drew her down by the dying fire.

“Réné and I have been out-trying to find him!" The tension had been too great. Joan buried her

head in her aunt's lap, and wept piteously.

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My poor little girl!" Mrs. Denton drew back the

thick hood, and smoothed the tumbled hair with a firm, caressing touch.

"My poor little girl!" she repeated. Gradually the sobs grew lighter.

"Oh, I know it was silly-but he never said good-by, and Réné thought that perhaps"

Then she broke down again.

"Hush, hush, my darling. We must not disturb mother. Come-you are quite worn out. We will talk about it to-morrow."

Having shut her niece safely into her room, Mrs. Denton arranged the light close to her own bed, and prepared to kill the hours of wakefulness, unendurable without the companionship of books.

What queer children these two were! At any rate they seemed to believe practically in another world! She heard the passage clock chime every hour until her maid brought the tea. Then she rose, and prepared herself for the inevitable business considerations which always force an entrance into any house around which Death has flung his embracing arms.

Jossie Bell unlocked his door, and stirred up the little fire his wife had built up against his return; but it was an ashen gray countenance that stared into the dancing blaze.

"Sir Roland's been lookin' for him to-night, for sure!" he murmured. "To think as I've always laughed over such-like-and I've lived to hear his own sell shoutin' after t' Squire! Alan! Alan!' That's what he shouted for sure!"

Then he took off his wet boots, soaked with the seawater, for he had been guiding a traveler over the sands, and crept up-stairs, determining to say nothing of the

adventure to his wife, if he could help it, which was doubtful.

"She's a gay nervous body!" he thought. "She might be flate if I telt her! Womenfolk gits ter❜ble soon flate!"

CHAPTER XXIII

MAUD DE RENEGIL's first interview with Mr. Dunstan showed her that there was nothing dream-like in the realities she had to face; and there was not the least doubt in her mind as soon as the general situation was revealed to her that she and Joan must leave the Hall, and the lawyer agreed with her.

He showed that it was impossible to determine what would happen yet, or what might be saved from the ruin. He felt confident that the Court would appoint her guardian to Joan, and to the coming child; and a good deal depended upon the sex of the latter. There being no will, he explained that the real property, if any, would descend to the male, if there happened to be one; but that the Court would acknowledge that she had some right of dower. He was hopeful that with a little. management things might turn out better than at present he cared to commit himself to.

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"Let us, however, get to the minimum, Mr. Dunstan," she repeated, over and over. 'Joan and I will be much happier living at our own expense, beholden to none!"

"Yes, yes-quite so! I perfectly understand!"

He was a business man and never allowed himself to sentimentalize, though to-day he did fidget his eyeglasses off and on continuously.

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And things might have been worse. If we are lucky, your settlement will bring you in several hundreds, and, of course, if you care to live at Thorpel Syke,