‘You heard Gosse—I mean, the man you know as Valade?’ ‘Clear as day, miss,’ he uttered. “I am off to-night,” he said. Over these boards the two arms of a guide-post serve to direct the wayfarer—on the right hand to the neighbouring villages of Neasdon and Kingsbury, and on the left to the Edgeware Road and the healthy heights of Hampstead. And to wish not is useless, because you have told me from when I was a little girl. But I liked to say it. “I find it very hard to write this letter. Only she is not Madame Valade at all. We are alone, Sir Rowland," he added, snuffing the candles, glancing cautiously around, and lowering his tone, "and what you confide to me shall never transpire,—at least to your disadvantage. Heaven forbid. "The feeling is dead within my breast.
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