“I know whither you are going,” observed Judith Malmayns.  “You are about to warn Mr. Bloundel and his partner—­apprentice no longer—­Leonard Holt, of the approaching conflagration.  But your care will be thrown away.”

“Does she speak the truth, brother?” demanded Hubert, raising his eyes from the Bible which he was reading in the corner of the vault.

“I will do nothing to endanger the design,” rejoined Grant; “of that rest assured.”

With this, he strode forth, traversed Saint Faith’s, and, notwithstanding the gloom, reached, without difficulty, the little door by which he had entered the cathedral.  Issuing from it, he took the way, as Judith had surmised, to Wood-street, and pausing before the grocer’s door, knocked against it.  The summons was presently answered by Blaize; and to Grant’s inquiries whether his master was within, he replied, “Which of my masters did you mean?  I have two.”

“The younger,” replied Grant, “Leonard Holt.”

“So far you are fortunate,” rejoined Blaize.  “Mr. Bloundel has retired to rest, but Mr. Holt is still downstairs.  Pray what may be your business with him at this hour?  It should be important.”

“It is important,” rejoined Grant, “and does not admit of a moment’s delay.  Tell him so.”

Eyeing the stranger with a look of suspicion, the porter was about to enter into a parley with him, when Leonard himself cut it short, and learning the nature of the application, desired Grant to follow him into the adjoining room.  The nine months which had passed over Leonard’s head since he was last brought under notice, had wrought a material change in his appearance.  He had a grave and thoughtful air, somewhat inclining to melancholy, but in other respects he was greatly improved.  His health was completely restored, and the thoughtful expression added character to his handsome physiognomy, and harmonised well with his manly and determined bearing.  He was habited plainly, but with some degree of taste.  As Judith Malmayns had intimated, he was now Mr. Bloundel’s partner, and his whole appearance denoted his improved circumstances.  The alteration did not escape the notice of the stranger, who regarded him with much curiosity, and closed the door behind him as he entered the room.

“You are looking much better than when we last met, Leonard Holt,” he said, in tones that made his hearer start, “and I am glad to perceive it.  Prosperity seems to attend your path, and you deserve it; whereas misery and every other ill—­and I deserve them—­dog mine.”

“I did not recognise you at first, Mr. Thirlby,” replied Leonard; “for, in truth, you are much changed.  But you desire to speak with me on a matter of importance.  Can I aid you?  You may need money.  Here is my purse.”

“I do not want it,” replied the other, scornfully rejecting the offer.  “I have a proposal to make to you.”

“I shall be glad to hear it,” replied Leonard.  “But first tell me how you effected your escape after your arrest on that disastrous night when, in self-defence, and unintentionally, I wounded your son, Lord Argentine?”