Lady Seyton eagerly agreed to this proposal; and it was arranged that we should be at Seyton House half an hour before the appointed time, in readiness for the gentleman.  Lady Seyton left in a hackney-coach, somewhat relieved, I thought, by having confided the oppressive secret to us, and with a nascent hope slightly flushing her pale, dejected countenance.

The firm of Flint and Sharp had then a long conference together, during which the lady’s statement and Mr. Chilton’s documents were, the reader may be sure, very minutely conned over, analyzed, and commented upon.  Finally, it was resolved that, if the approaching interview, the manner of which we agreed upon, did not prove satisfactory, Mr. Flint should immediately proceed to Ireland, and personally ascertain the truth or falsehood of the facts alleged by Chilton.

“Mr. Chilton is announced,” said Lady Seyton, hurriedly entering the library in Grosvenor Square, where Mr. Flint and myself were seated.  “I need not be present, I think you said?” she added, in great tremor.

“Certainly not, madam,” I replied.  “We shall do better alone.”

She retired instantly.  Flint rose and stationed himself close by the door.  Presently a sounding, confident step was heard along the passage, the library door swung back on its noiseless hinges, and in stalked a man of apparently about thirty-five years of age, tall, genteel, and soldier-looking.  He started back on seeing me, recognizing, I perceived, my vocation, at a glance.

“How is this?” he exclaimed.  “I expected”—­

“The Countess of Seyton.  True; but her ladyship has deputed me to confer with you on the business mentioned in your note.”

“I shall have nothing to say to you,” he replied abruptly, and turned to leave the room.  Mr. Flint had shut, and was standing with his back to the door.

“You can’t go,” he said, in his coolest manner.  “The police are within call.”

“The police!  What the devil do you mean?” cried Chilton, angrily; but, spite of his assurance, visibly trembling beneath Flint’s searching, half-sneering look.

“Nothing very remarkable,” replied that gentleman, “or unusual in our profession.  Come, sit down; we are lawyers; you are a man of business, we know.  I dare say we shall soon understand each other.”

Mr. Chilton sat down, and moodily awaited what was next to come.

“You are aware,” said Mr. Flint, “that you have rendered yourself liable to transportation?”

“What"’ exclaimed Chilton, flashing crimson, and starting to his feet.  “What!”

“To transportation,” continued my imperturbable partner, “for seven, ten, fourteen years, or for life, at the discretion of the judge; but, considering the frequency of the crime of late, I should say there is a strong probability that you will be a lifer!”

“What devil’s gibberish is this?” exclaimed Chilton, frightened, but still fierce.  “I can prove everything I have said.  Mr. Gosford, I tell you”—­