but it is a sacred object, and if it had carried me to death I hope it

would have sustained me.”

“Not to death,” said the uncle; “it is not necessary to say, to

death.”

“I doubt, sir,” returned the nephew, “whether, if it had carried

me to the utmost brink of death, you would have cared to stop me

there.”

The deepened marks in the nose, and the lengthening of the

fine straight lines in the cruel face, looked ominous as to that; the

uncle made a graceful gesture of protest, which was so clearly a

slight form of good breeding that it was not reassuring.

“Indeed, sir,” pursued the nephew, “for anything I know, you

may have expressly worked to give a more suspicious appearance

to the suspicious circumstances that surrounded me.”

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“No, no, no,” said the uncle, pleasantly.

“But, however that may be,” resumed the nephew, glancing at

him with deep distrust, “I know that your diplomacy would stop

me by any means, and would know no scruple as to means.”

“My friend, I told you so,” said the uncle, with a fine pulsation

in the two marks. “Do me the favour to recall that I told you so,

long ago.”

“I recall it.”

“Thank you,” said the Marquisvery sweetly in deed.

His tone lingered in the air, almost like the tone of a musical

instrument.

“In effect, sir,” pursued the nephew,