Our visitor collapsed into a chair, with a ghastly face, and a glitter of moisture on his brow.  “It—­it’s not actionable,” he stammered.

“I am very much afraid that it is not; but between ourselves, Windibank, it was as cruel, and selfish, and heartless a trick in a petty way as ever came before me.  Now, let me just run over the course of events, and you will contradict me if I go wrong.”

The man sat huddled up in his chair, with his head sunk upon his breast, like one who is utterly crushed.  Holmes stuck his feet up on the corner of the mantelpiece, and, leaning back with his hands in his pockets, began talking, rather to himself, as it seemed, than to us.

“The man married a woman very much older than himself for her money,” said he, “and he enjoyed the use of the money of the daughter as long as she lived with them.  It was a considerable sum, for people in their position, and the loss of it would have made a serious difference.  It was worth an effort to preserve it.  The daughter was of a good, amiable disposition, but affectionate and warm-hearted in her ways, so that it was evident that with her fair personal advantages, and her little income, she would not be allowed to remain single long.  Now her marriage would mean, of course, the loss of a hundred a year, so what does her stepfather do to prevent it?  He takes the obvious course of keeping her at home, and forbidding her to seek the company of people of her own age.  But soon he found that that would not answer forever.  She became restive, insisted upon her rights, and finally announced her positive intention of going to a certain ball.  What does her clever stepfather do then?  He conceives an idea more creditable to his head than to his heart.  With the connivance and assistance of his wife, he disguised himself, covered those keen eyes with tinted glasses masked the face with a mustache and a pair of bushy whiskers, sunk that clear voice into an insinuating whisper, and doubly secure on account of the girl’s short sight, he appears as Mr. Hosmer Angel, and keeps off other lovers by making love himself.”

“It was only a joke at first,” groaned our visitor.  “We never thought that she would have been so carried away.”

“Very likely not.  However that may be, the young lady was very decidedly carried away, and having quite made up her mind that her stepfather was in France, the suspicion of treachery never for an instant entered her mind.  She was flattered by the gentleman’s attentions, and the effect was increased by the loudly expressed admiration of her mother.  Then Mr. Angel began to call, for it was obvious that the matter should be pushed as far as if would go, if a real effect were to be produced.  There were meetings, and an engagement, which would finally secure the girl’s affections from turning toward anyone else.  But the deception could not be kept up forever.  These pretended journeys to France were rather cumbrous.  The thing to