The Argosy — page 278: what you’re looking at

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Mrs. Raven’s Temptation. 257 —which he kept to himself for equally unselfish reasons. ‘‘It is a terrible world,” thought the Vicar to himself; “and one of its laws seems to be that the innocent must suffer for the guilty, but while we can help it we ourselves need not be their executioners.” “May I ask one thing,” said he, with that fine courtliness which would not for one moment take advantage of his position to intrude into Frank’s confidence. ‘“‘May I ask if it is any dishonesty that you fear?” Frank hesitated a moment. He was quite at ease now that he had admitted the existence of a secret. “No,” he said : “at least, not exactly. Only as dishonesty is part of every wrong thing. It is something that concerns family matters —that may concern me more than anybody else.” The old clergyman looked at him wistfully. ‘It seems only the other day that I christened you. I hope you are well-advised in all you are doing, Frank. You young folks frighten us elders sometimes. You are so rash.” “My Uncle Connell knows all about the matter,” said Frank, simply. ‘‘I was in his house when it first began. I told him every- thing—almost more than I should tell, I think. But he is kind and sensible.” “A good man,” commented the Vicar, cordially. ‘I have read some of his writings and heard of many of his actions.” “Mr. Connell reminded me that when I was at home here I should have a friend at hand in you,” said Frank. ‘‘ If anything occurs in which I need advice, I shall come to you at once, sir.” ‘¢ Ask any advice you will—and tell me no more than Is necessary to enable me to give advice worth having,” answered the Vicar. ‘‘ And I will keep my own eyes and ears open, too.” As soon as Mr. Toynbee was gone, Frank ran upstairs to his room. He had forgotten the footsteps he had heard; and there was nothing in the room to remind him that anybody had been there during his absence. But the breeze had risen, and, finding entrance at the open window, had played some havoc among the loose sheets on his writing-case. With the draught caused by the opening door as he went in, another paper whirled up and fell to the floor. Frank hastily gathered them together. ‘They were only blank sheets. He opened the inside of the case to thrust them into one of its pockets. | The pocket was empty. He knew it had not held much: only two or three sheets of foreign paper. With a petulant exclamation of impatience, he recognised that he had opened the wrong pocket, and turned to the other. But, then—he paused—neither pocket ought to be empty. For in that where he had not stored stationery, he had put away the myste- rious paper which he had found with the gold in the flower pot at Coltburn. VOL, XXXIV. ecomrebooks (CO