dred pounds out of his own capital of three thousand pounds. It will be seen that the margin for safety in case of a fall was small.

There was no loss; Jack's correspondent was right; there was a large profit, for silk went up. Jack was prudent; he let the profit remain in the bank, continued to live frugally, but next time he asked for a credit of thirty thousand pounds, which was also granted him.

That operation again was successful. Another and yet another succeeded. Jack's name became favorably known. Jack's capital was trebled. His ventures were larger.

He took larger offices and engaged more clerks. He had made already a good business of the speculative kind, which report magnified into a great business of the safe kind.

He next gave up the modest lodgings in Bloomsbury which had hitherto contented him, took chambers in the West End, joined a new proprietary club (where he made the acquaintance of Stephen Hamblin), took to playing whist there, and of course, because his temperament was cool, and his memory good, and he never forgot a card, always won; bought a horse and rode in the park; remembered that he had a second name, and wrote on his card, “Mr. J. Bunter Baker." In other matters he lived exactly as he had always done, without the least desire for the society of ladies, conversing with Polly, Lotty, and Topsy aforesaid, and raising golden visions in the minds of those young persons; and even continuing on affable terms with his old associates, still mostly clerks, and envious beyond measure of a success which their want of pluck made impossible for them. At his West-End chambers he gave little dinners, to which he invited his new friends, Stephen Hamblin, the manager of the London, Southwark and Stepney Bank, and others. The wine he gave them was choice; after dinner, it was not unusual to have a little lansquenet, baccarat, loo, or perhaps an écarté pool. But Jack Baker was too wary to lose his head over cards, and gener-, ally came out of the mêlée a winner.

To these dinners, it is needless to add, Mr. J. Bunter Baker did not invite his former friends. It was enough that he should stand them drinks at the bar; it was, indeed, all they asked. Tears rose to the eyes of those honest fellows when they thought of the magnificence to which one of their number had soared. Like Baker père, deceased, they were satisfied to contemplate success from afar, without dreaming that it might be their own case. But then they never had that vision of the night-they never heard that voice which said, "Whether you wish to be president of a South American republic or a successful merchant, one thing only is wanted-pluck."

It is, indeed, one of the most remarkable circumstances attendant on success, that, while all the world envies the successful man, not one in a hundred considers how he himself might win that same success by following parallel lines.

As for the Birch-Tree Tavern, Jack Baker, as we have seen, did not forsake that festive place. Luncheon was to be had there as well as anywhere else, and perhaps a wrinkle might be picked up among those inventors of schemes and contrivers of companies. And it was not unpleasant for a man of Jack Baker's coarse fiber to be received with deference; a respect due to the man who has made money was paid him in full measure, and even ostentatiously; the newest schemes were explained, the latest ideas were aired, for his benefit; the house, so to speak, played up to the capitalist; Jack Baker, who had made his own fortune, was ready to make that of everybody else. When will men understand that he who wants to make his fortune must do it by himself?

Stephen Hamblin did not commit the error common among vulgar practitioners of his school. He did not, that is, confide his case to the hands of a petifogging solicitor. He took it to a firm of the utmost respectability, told the whole exact truth, and only asked that the affair should be pushed on as rapidly as possible. This done, he felt easier. The fight would come off; the sooner the better. Let it come. About the issue he felt generally, though there were times of doubt, pretty confident.

He dined at the club with Jack Baker. After dinner, in the smoking-room, he talked darkly about what was going to happen. Presently he opened up the matter more fully.

"What I mean," he said, "what I meant yesterday is, that I am myself the claimant to the whole of my late brother's property."

"Phew!" Jack Baker whistled. “The whole? Why, it is-how much—a quarter of a million?

More," said Stephen. "We have now found out that he never married. It is, of course, hard upon the girl."

"Oh, hang the girl!" Jack replied, with his ready laugh. "Number one comes first. And, of course, if it isn't her own, she can't have it. When do you come into possession?"

"My dear boy, how can they win, when I hold in my hands proof-not documentary proof, which would satisfy a court of law, but moral proof-that my brother never was married at all?"

breaking with your family, supposing, as you say, they consider the thing as an act of hostility. I believe, on your own showing, that you are bound to win. And I don't mind risking something. Still, it is a risk. You will have to pay

They shook hands.

"I will lend you a thousand, Hamblin," he "on condition of your paying

me back two thousand on the day that you get your brother's estate."

Stephen laughed.

"Never

"Only cent. per cent.," he said. mind. I don't want any one to know how my affairs have been dipped of late. I accept, Jack. You can make it a couple of hundred in cash, and eight hundred in a three months' bill. My dear boy," he added with feeling, "when I do come into my brother's money we will have such a caper, you and I together, with a friend or two, as you shall remember all your life. Hang it!

"Now, Jack," said Stephen, leaning forward, and speaking seriously, “I have told you of my prospects. Let me tell you something more. This is, of course, perfectly confidential."

The club smoking-room was quite empty at their end of it.

“Go on, old man.”

"Anthony's death came at an awkward time for me. He and I were in a good big thing to gether, though his name was not mentioned, and it's come to grief. My money is locked up here and there. I have lost a devil of a lot lately; and, in fact, I want to raise money until I get possession."

"Security?"

erly."

CHAPTER XVII.

HOW THE BATTLE WAS BEGUN.

ALDERNEY CODD, the news of Stephen's claim having reached him, fell into a doubt and quandary the like of which he had never before experienced, because he saw that he must take a side. For quiet people, trimmers, friends of both camps, undecided thinkers, uncertain reasoners, and philosophers who change their views with the wind, it is most grievous to have to take a side. Suppose, for instance, they were to disestablish the Church; suppose there was to be a

It is almost needless to say that Anthony had never speculated with Stephen in his life, and equally needless to say that the only "scrip" in Stephen's possession consisted of "pictures," chiefly from Honduras, certain South American republics, and sundry bogus American railways, got up by pirates on both sides the Atlantic.

"I would rather not go to my banker's," Stephen went on. "Can you help me to a private lender- anybody—a friend of your own would do?"

Jack nodded, and went on quietly sucking his cigar in silence for a few minutes. Then he made up his mind and spoke.

"I don't suppose," he said, "that a sensible man like yourself, and a man of the world like yourself, would go in for a claim which you weren't pretty sure of carrying through. Nothing short of certainty would justify you in

pose your paternal uncle, from whom you had expectations, held one view firmly, while your maternal aunt, from whom also you had expectations, took the other side forcibly, what then, reader, would your own feelings be? Such, however, was Alderney Codd's position. On the one hand, his long and early friendship with Stephen; the memory of a thousand youthful freaks and extravagances; the habit acquired in youth, and still maintained, of regarding Stephen as an adviser, and, in a sense, his superior; the familiarity of his associations with him—these were on one side; on the other were his respect and his loyalty to the Hamblin name, gratitude to the memory of Anthony, duty to his daughter, and the belief that Stephen's position was a wrong one.

He was torn with conflicting emotions. If he considered the thing from a practical point of view, it was difficult to discern which was the

safe side to take. For if Stephen gained the day, and he should be found in the enemy's camp, what then? Or, if Alison should be victorious, and he were a partisan of Stephen, with what face could he greet her again?

He was finally determined by perfectly disinterested considerations. The sight of Anthony's coat hanging before his eyes determined him.

He lost no time in acting upon his resolution. First, he repaired to Clapham, where he sought an interview with Alison and tendered his allegiance; this once offered and accepted, he felt easier and more comfortable in his mind, and sought Stephen at his chambers.

Poor Alderney! He had been so many times to those familiar chambers; he had spent so many evenings in them; he had smoked so many pipes, cigars, and cigarettes; he had imbibed in them so prodigious a quantity of intoxicating drinks; he had been always welcome there. And now he was about to say that he could never come there any more. Stephen, he knew, was not, from a high moral point of view, a good man. Quite the contrary. But then Stephen was always a friend of Alderney's, and one forgives a great deal in those whose friendship has lasted for thirty years or so. Perhaps, too, his own standard of morality was not of the highest. And Stephen was one of the Hamblins, to know whom was to gain a certain distinction at the Birch-Tree. Now, all that fabric of friendship, pride, and distinction was to be rudely shattered. "Come in, Alderney," cried Stephen in his most cheery voice; come in, man. I haven't seen you for a month, have I? Come in."

Alderney turned very red.

"The fact is, Stephen," he stammered, "I have come-have come-in fact, to tell you that I have heard of your claim, and that I-in fact -I entirely disapprove of it."

"Do you, Alderney, and why?"

ought to support Anthony's daughter. Well, the feeling does you credit. Support her by all means. But not to the extent of injustice, Alderney. Don't you see that the estate, since there was no marriage, is all mine? Can you blame me for merely taking what is mine?"

"Yes," said Alderney, plucking up his spirits, "I blame you for bringing scandal upon the family. What need to rake up the past? Even supposing your allegation to be true, which I do not believe, what good does it do to let all the world know it? Why, I hear they offered you five hundred a year for life, solely for taking charge of Alison for one year. I'd have done that job, Stephen, for a quarter of the money. Five hundred pounds a year!"

“A splendid sum, isn't it?" Stephen sneered ; "a fair equivalent for ten thousand a year. Don't be an ass, Alderney. Scandal on the family, too, because one of them is proved never to have married. Rubbish!"

"Then I will say more, Stephen. I think that respect for Anthony's memory, if not consideration for his child, ought to have prevailed upon you to prevent this misery from falling upon her."

Alderney folded his arms firmly as he took his stand.

Stephen, as usual, lost his temper.

"Very well," he said; "I've heard what you came to say, and now, if you have nothing more to say, you may go. Of course you understand, Alderney, that any little assistance which I could have offered as the head of the Hamblin family will be withheld if you choose to ally yourself with my enemies."

"I understand," Alderney replied sadly, thinking of his poor hundred pounds a year, and wondering how that little income was to be supplemented for the future. "Good-by, Stephen; shake hands before I go, old man. I am more

Stephen's face clouded over.

"Come, Alderney; don't be sentimental, and don't be Quixotic. No one would be such a fool as to let go a quarter of a million of money-his own, too."

"But it is not your own: it is Alison's."

“I say that it is my own. I say that Alison's mother was never married."

"You can not prove it."

"It is for her, on the other hand, to prove the contrary. If there was a marriage, it can be proved with the greatest ease. But there was none."

For an instant Alderney wavered.
Stephen saw his look of irresolution.

this line; but Anthony and his daughter must come first. You will change your mind yet, and withdraw your claim."

"I will do nothing of the kind."

mation of the Great Glass Spoon Company, by which he had hoped to make another coup. Well, it could not be helped. No doubt Stephen would float that company and do well with it.

has almost stopped. I have not engineered a new company for a twelvemonth." Everybody smiled; Alderney's companies were well known. "I am comparatively free, and shall be glad to

Alderney next went into the City, and called at the office in Great St. Simon Apostle. He could not have arrived at a more lucky moment, for a great family council, called together in haste, was just meeting to consider the best course to pursue. The Dean was there, the Colonel was there, the two partners, the family lawyer, and Gilbert Yorke. Alderney sent in his name, and was invited to join this Hamblin parliament.

The proceedings were opened by Augustus, in the private office of Anthony Hamblin, deceased, in a little speech.

“You all know," he said, "that our cousin Anthony left nc will; you all know that he maintained a profound silence on the subject of his marriage. We have now to tell you, Dean, and you, Colonel, that Stephen Hamblin, asserting that there was never any marriage at all, is about to claim the whole estate. We have asked you together in order to confer on the best manner of meeting that claim. Mr. Billiter is so good as to give us the benefit of his legal opinion. Mr. Gilbert Yorke has as good a right to be present as any of us, for he is engaged to Alison—"

"Pardon me," said Gilbert, reddening to the roots of his hair, “Alison will not hear of any engagement, she says, until she can meet the world without having to blush for her mother."

"That does her credit," said Augustus, and the Dean applauded. "Very well, cousins, we think that an effort may be made to establish the fact of this marriage; and of that fact, I am sure, no one here can entertain the least doubt." No one did.

“Mr. Yorke has very kindly offered," he went on, "to give up his whole time for the search, which may possibly be long and tedious. He abandons his practice at the bar-"

"Pardon me again," said Gilbert, "my practice is nothing. I have no practice. All I give up is the waiting all day long in chambers for briefs which never come."

"Well," said Mr. Billiter, with a twinkle of his ferret-like eyes-"well, there's a very pretty fortune depending upon the success of that search. Don't fire up, young man; lovers never do think of fortunes. We all know that; and Miss Hamblin is a most beautiful and well-conditioned young lady, and we give you credit for entirely disinterested feelings."

"Allow me, too," said Alderney, "to offer my own humble services. In the present depressed state of the City, my usual financial work

benefactor's daughter. I never knew her mother; but we may say, I am sure, in the words of the poet, 'Matre pulchra, filia pulchrior.””

Alderney had touched the right chord. Anthony Hamblin, the worthy head of the house, had been, in one way or the other, a benefactor to everybody in the room. The Dean thought of days before the Deanery came to him, when his boys would certainly not have gone to Marlborough but for Anthony; the Colonel thought how his two boys, in the Engineers and Artillery, would certainly never have got to Woolwich had it not been for Anthony; the two partners thought of numberless acts of kindness in the old days when all were young together; even the old lawyer owed something to this universal benefactor, this dispenser of kindliness, this secret doer of good deeds. A hush fell upon them for a moment; then the Dean cleared his throat, which had gone suddenly a little husky.

"We must accept your offer with gratitude, Cousin Alderney. Yes, yes, our benefactor's daughter must not look in vain to her cousins for help."

"I concur," said William the Silent.

"I have just come from seeing my cousin Stephen," Alderney went on. "I thought it right, before breaking off the friendship which has always existed between us, to go and make some sort of appeal to his better nature. I know," he added, with a blush, “that our friendship has been marked by many a youthful folly, which one may repent of, but which one-onein fact—always looks back to with some degree of pleasure." The Dean looked professionally grave. "I told him then that I would have neither part nor lot with him in this matter."

"Very good," said Augustus approvingly. "When I considered," Alderney went on, "that I actually had on at that moment the very coat which Anthony lent me, I could have no other feeling but indignation and astonishment. And, in addition to the coat "-he drew out a leather pocket-book full of papers-"I had with me, come back to me after many days, an actual I. O. U. of my own, given by me to Anthony twenty years ago-twenty-years-ago "—he repeated this with great pathos-" for five-andtwenty pounds." He handed it to Augustus with pride. "Stephen found it among the papers. It is not often that one's good deeds return in such a manner. Gentlemen, I give you my word that at this moment I only regret that the document represents so small a sum. I wish

There was a beautiful confusion between selfinterest and the finest kind of generosity which moved all present.

"Very good," said Augustus. "Now let us consider the position from a common-sense point of view. Here is Mr. Billiter to correct us if we are led astray by an over-natural prejudice in favor of poor Anthony. We have this fact against us: there is not anywhere the slightest mention of marriage or love-affair in Anthony's letters or diaries. Yet the latter are kept with the greatest care, and in the most minute detail."

"As there must have been at least lovepassages of some kind," said the Colonel, "does not that prove intentional omission ?"

"I think it may. We need not, therefore, be discouraged at the outset by this omission. As the Colonel says, there must have been lovepassages, probably letters. These are all probably destroyed; concealment was intentional."

"Men in my profession," said Mr. Billiter, "are not likely to believe blindly in anybody. It is the seamy side which we generally have placed before us. At the same time, I knew Anthony Hamblin from his childhood upward. I seem, like yourselves, to have known him most intimately say from hour to hour. And if I were going to choose a man in whose virtue and honor I would believe, that man would be Anthony Hamblin."

"I concur," said William the Silent, for the second time.

"Having said so much," Mr. Billiter went on, "I come to the next point. Are we ready to carry this investigation throughout? Are we prepared for whatever may turn up? Of course, something will. It is impossible that a child should be born, a mother die, a man marry, without leaving some trace or other, which we shall be able to light upon after careful investigation! Are you prepared, young man"-he fixed his bright eyes upon Gilbert, who bore the shock without flinching-"to face all consequences?"

"I am!" Gilbert replied. "The truth can not be so bad for Alison to bear as the present uncertainty, when every chance allusion, every thought, any accident, puts the doubt before her, and makes a fresh demand upon her faith in her father. Let us, in Heaven's name, learn the truth!"

"Good!" said the Dean.

"Very well, then," observed Mr. Billiter dryly, "we are all agreed, we think, that Anthony Hamblin will come well out of it; we hope he will. If he does not, we are prepared to surren

and accept the consequences. You, gentlemen he turned to the partners-"you are more deeply concerned than even Alison herself."

We are," said Augustus. "But the House would stand even such a shock as that which you contemplate." He meant if Stephen should withdraw his money.

"Then we return to the question," said Mr. Billiter, "What are we to do?" Nobody spoke for a time. lifted up his voice:

Then Alderney

"Advertise!" he said. "Go on advertis

ing!"

Augustus groaned.

"We advertised everywhere when Anthony was drowned. One would like to avoid the agony column of the Times' if we could."

"There is no possible avoidance of publicity," said Mr. Billiter. "The Court of Probate will be asked for letters. We shall have to oppose. We shall have to state why we oppose. The court does not sit with closed doors. There will be a great deal of talk about it before we have done, I fear. Of course it is disagreeable to quiet people to be talked of in every newspaper in the kingdom."

Alderney was already at work with paper and pencil.

"It is nothing less than horrible," said Augustus, "that our name—the name of Anthony Hamblin-should be mixed up in such a vulgar difficulty as an uncertain marriage."

He spoke as if the fierce sunlight of fame should shine upon every action of a Hamblin and make it known to the people.

"Nothing in the world like an advertisement," said Alderney, working away. "You spend a guinea in the Times,' and another guinea in the 'Guardian,' All the parish clerks in all the parishes in the country are immediately set to work in hope of getting the reward. You ought to stimulate them by offering a high reward. Now, then, will this do?—

"TWO HUNDRED POUNDS REWARD!' That is not too much, is it? No! Two Hundred Pounds Reward.-Wanted, the Certificate of Marriage of Anthony Hamblin, merchant of Great St. Simon Apostle, City of London, and Clapham Common, with some person unknown. It is believed that the marriage took place in or near London, about twenty to twenty-three years ago. The above reward will be paid on receiving a certified copy of the register.' That sounds well," said Alderney. "Two hundred pounds will make them work. But that is not enough. We must have another advertisement to find out Alison's mother. Here it is:

"TWO HUNDRED POUNDS REWARD.