“’Where, in the name of all that’s damnable, can he have put the money!’”

“And did you never find out who this man was?” asked the admiral.

“Never.”

“It is an odd affair.”

“It is,” said Mr. Chillingworth, “and full of mystery.  The public mind was much taken up at the time with some other matters, or it would have made the death of Mr. Bannerworth the subject of more prolific comment than it did.  As it was, however, a great deal was said upon the subject, and the whole comity was in a state of commotion for weeks afterwards.”

“Yes,” said Henry; “it so happened that about that very time a murder was committed in the neighbourhood of London, which baffled all the exertions of the authorities to discover the perpetrators of.  It was the murder of Lord Lorne.”

“Oh!  I remember,” said the admiral; “the newspapers were full of it for a long time.”

“They were; and so, as Mr. Chillingworth says, the more exciting interest which that affair created drew off public attention, in a great measure, from my father’s suicide, and we did not suffer so much from public remark and from impertinent curiosity as might have been expected.”

“And, in addition,” said Mr. Chillingworth, and he changed colour a little as he spoke, “there was an execution shortly afterwards.”

“Yes,” said Henry, “there was.”

“The execution of a man named Angerstein,” added Mr. Chillingworth, “for a highway robbery, attended with the most brutal violence.”

“True; all the affairs of that period of time are strongly impressed upon my mind,” said Henry; “but you do not seem well, Mr. Chillingworth.”

“Oh, yes; I am quite well—­you are mistaken.”

Both the admiral and Henry looked scrutinizingly at the doctor, who certainly appeared to them to be labouring under some great mental excitement, which he found it almost beyond his power to repress.

“I tell you what it is, doctor,” said the admiral; “I don’t pretend, and never did, to see further through a tar-barrel than my neighbours; but I can see far enough to feel convinced that you have got something on your mind, and that it somehow concerns this affair.”

“Is it so?” said Henry.

“I cannot if I would,” said Mr. Chillingworth; “and I may with truth add, that I would not, if I could, hide from you that I have something on my mind connected with this affair; but let me assure you it would be premature of me to tell you of it.”

“Premature be d——­d!” said the admiral; “out with it.”

“Nay, nay, dear sir; I am not now in a position to say what is passing through my mind.”

“Alter your position, then, and be blowed!” cried Jack Pringle, suddenly stepping forward, and giving the doctor such a push, that he nearly went through one of the sides of the summer-house.

“Why, you scoundrel!” cried the admiral, “how came you here?”