deep bark of a dog, frightened at the noise and lights. They walked up and down in silence for about a quarter of an hour.

"We can't see the shore," said one of the detectives at last; "but we shall be in, I expect, in half an hour. There are fishing-boats away there, to the right."

66

Ay," grumbled the other; "I shall not be sorry to get in. It is cold work, here."

"You will soon be at liberty, my friend," said Saltasche, blandly. "See: try a cigar, will you?"—and he took a case out of his pocket.

They stood for a moment while the lights were being struck. Saltasche noticed a pile of boxes, bales, and trunks, along the side. The taffrail was high, as the steamer was saloon-decked. A white deal packing-case projected slightly; from that it was an easy step to a black trunk on top; then one more, and he would be on the edge.

One of the men-he who was on the prisoner's right hand-turned a little aside as he struck a vesuvian on his boot-heel. Saltasche let slip his cloak, as if accidentally, off his shoulders. Both the officers stooped simultaneously to

pick it up for him. Now was his chance. Three long rapid strides bring him to the pile by the side. One step on the white packing-case-his left foot reaches the black trunk. It shakes. No: he seizes the taffrail with his right hand.

The detectives, with a wild yell, follow him. One of them has him almost grasped by the foot. But Saltasche vaults over, with a vigorous spring. A splash, and he is in the water just abaft the paddle-wheel.

He did not sink. On the contrary, he was swimming. From the side they could see his face, calm and defiant, as the moonlight fell upon it, for a few minutes. The crests of the waves were not whiter. A life-preserver was flung out. It floated by within arm's reach of him. He seemed only to wait to have the boat lowered. Then, in sight of all, he threw up his arms over his head. There was a ground-swell now. A high wave raised and shook its white mane between them, and hid him for a moment. Was it the sound it made breaking against the bow? or was it a sea-bird's cry? Something between a laugh and a soband he was gone.

CHAPTER XVIII.

"O! Ten times faster Venus' pigeons fly

To seal love's bonds new made, than they are wont
To keep obliged faith unforfeited."

Merchant of Venice.

MISS O'HEGARTY and Dermot Blake were breakfasting together one frosty morning. It was chilly out of doors, as one might see from the fine red noses of the people who went by; but a blazing fire prevented the occupants of the room from feeling any discomfort. A huge pointer lay on the rug, thumping the floor with his thick tail as he gazed into his master's face, watching for the piece of dry toast or the drumstick which was certain to reward his patience. It was eleven o'clock; the breakfast was unusually late, for Dermot had only come up from Blakestown by the night-mail, and had taken a good sleep to make up for his lost rest. Miss O'Hegarty, who had finished her

breakfast some time, was reading the news

paper.

"Here it is at last!" she cried; "listen,

Dermot. Now, I do declare!

"At St. George's, Hanover Square. By the reverendum, um,-O'Rooney Hogan, Esq., barrister-at-law, to Diana, only daughter of the late Drelincourt Bursford, of Bursford Castle, County Armagh.'

"There now! She's done it at last, hasn't she? And he's not even an M.P."

"Not even as much as an M.P.," grinned Dermot, mightily tickled at the conceit. "Poor Diana! She's off at last."

"And that unfortunate mother of hers! Fancy, she has allowed herself to be bamboozled into bringing all her nice comfortable things, her furniture and everything, over to London; to live with them, by the way. Long that'll last, won't it?"

"Behave yourself, Spot, I say," said Dermot to the pointer, who had stuffed his moist nose almost into his master's hand. "Doesn't she agree with the son-in-law-hey, ma'am?'

"Not she: how would she? Low fellow !-a

friend and companion of that Saltasche man, who drowned himself, you remember, when he was being brought home to be tried. A low fellow. Got into society here somehow, through Saltasche. Thank goodness, things are changed now. With a Conservative Government we may hope for a little decency."

Yes, I recollect Saltasche," said Dermot thoughtfully. "I saw him on the Pier that first Sunday I was there: the Sunday I met Nellie."

"Was it not an extraordinary thing that all the money should have been recovered, though? I declare I never heard of such a romance; and how it was, no one knows."

"What money?"

"Did you not hear, Dermot? Why, nearly sixty thousand pounds were placed by some person in the hands of the solicitors who were engaged by the company he had cheated. Nobody knows who it was. Poor Mr. Grey was telling me about it the other day. They say it was some lady: but one of the conditions under which the restitution was made was, that nothing should be said about the person who conducted the negotiations."