One may be sure there was no failure of appointment next day on the part of either of our young people.

After Nell had informed Dare that the letter to Mr. Piljoy had been duly written and dispatched, and he had given her a brief account of his visit to Bow Street--where he had left a full description of the missing child, compiled with information furnished by Mrs. Mardin--there seemed little more to say or do. Of a certain task he had set before himself, and of a certain journey he meant to undertake, Dare deemed it best not to enter into any details. All he gave Miss Baynard to understand was, that nothing should be left undone on his part in his endeavor to trace the abducted heir.

But Nell felt strongly that the time had come for a clear understanding on both sides. Their masks had been seen through, their disguise penetrated. Each of them had played a double part within the other\'s knowledge, and yet each had pretended to ignore the fact. The day of make-believe was at an end.

She saw clearly that if any reference was to be made to their first meeting, it must come from herself. Dare, she felt sure, would never as much as hint at a circumstance, her silence about which could only lead him to conclude that she was determined to ignore it. Further than that, she wanted to set herself straight with him--to explain the motives which led to her assumption for one night only of the r?le of a "gentleman of the road." She could no longer rest satisfied with the consciousness that any action of hers should remain in his eyes under the shadow of ambiguity or suspicion.

That she had managed so far not to betray her other and far sweeter secret she felt pretty well assured, and the knowledge comforted her exceedingly; for, while determined to brush aside all the cobwebs that had hitherto existed between them, she was equally as determined that of that hidden flower which perfumed and made beautiful the garden of her heart he should know nothing whatever.

"You and I, Mr. Dare, had met on one occasion before our first meeting under this roof," began Nell, turning her large hazel eyes, with a sort of grave questioning in them, full upon him.

It was not often that Dare was taken by surprise, but he certainly was just now. His swarthy cheeks flushed with a color that was rare to them; but it did not take him longer than half a dozen seconds to recover himself. With a low bow, he said, "It is not for me to dispute any statement Miss Baynard may choose to make."

"My reason for referring to the occasion in question is because I am desirous of explaining under what circumstances I was led to embark on that hare-brained adventure."

"Pardon me, but is any such explanation needed? Certainly it is not by me. Such an impertinence is what I never dreamed of. Why go into a matter which now belongs wholly to the past?"

"For my own satisfaction, if for nothing else."

Again Dare gravely inclined his head. It was evident Miss Baynard was determined to have her own way, although probably she had nothing more to tell him than he either knew or guessed already.

"On the occasion of our first meeting of all," resumed Nell, "I believe I remarked to you that the object of my escapade was, not to despoil some innocent traveller of his purse, but to obtain possession of a will which I knew to be in the keeping of a certain person who, on his way home, travelling by post-chaise, was bound to pass the place where I was lying in wait for him."

"So much I gathered from what you told me."

"The will in question was the one I spoke to you about yesterday, by the provisions of which my uncle disinherited his grandson in favor of the son of the woman between whom and himself there was no relationship whatever. I thought then, as I think still, that the will was a most unjust and iniquitous one and I determined, if it were anyhow possible to do so, to get possession of it and destroy it. How ignominiously I failed in the attempt you know already."

"All this I understood from what you were good enough to tell me yesterday. That served to throw a clear light on whatever had seemed dark before."

"When I ventured on my rash attempt, which, so fortunately for all concerned, proved unsuccessful, my uncle had been given up by his doctors, and I had every reason for believing that he could not possibly live to make another will. As for the moral aspect of the affair, I think perhaps that the less I say on that score the better. I was carried away by a flame of indignation, which, so to speak, swept me off my feet, thrusting all considerations of prudence, as well as of right or wrong, into the background, blinding my moral sense for the time being, and leaving room in my mind for nothing save a burning desire, at whatever cost, to get the will into my hands. But Fate defeated my purpose, and the end I aimed at was brought about by far different means."

Miss Baynard had relieved her mind, and one usually derives a sense of comfort from being able to do that. She had put herself straight with Dare; there was no longer any question between them of a dual personality. He knew that in him she had recognized the Captain Nightshade of her adventure, and he had heard from her own lips, if there was any satisfaction in that, what he most likely knew or guessed before, that she was the masquerader in male attire who had played such an unheroic part on that occasion.

But one confidence often tends to beget another, and now, strange to say. Geoffrey Dare felt strongly impelled to crave Miss Baynard\'s patience for a little while in order that he might make clear to her under what stress of circumstances he had been driven to take to the King\'s highway.

Miss Baynard raised no objections to listening to anything he might have to tell her. Did not Desdemona "seriously incline" to the Moor of Venice, the while he told the tale of his adventures by sea and land, and why should not she do the same?

"What I have to tell you is in the main a record of faults and follies," began Dare when leave had been given him, "but I will make my narrative as brief as possible. Let me start by remarking that I have good blood in my veins, and can trace back my ancestry in a direct line for upwards of two hundred years. It was my misfortune to lose both my parents long before I was out of my teens. On coming of age I succeeded to a fortune of forty thousand pounds, the accumulated income of my minority. Thereupon I at once plunged into all the gayeties and temptations of town life, showering my guineas right and left with lavish hands, as if they could never come to an end. Cards, dice, and the turf helped me in turn on the downward road. I had no one to counsel or warn me. The person who had filled the post of guardian to me from the date of my father\'s death was himself a broken man of pleasure, who encouraged rather than restrained me in the road I was treading, and had no scruple about dipping his hand into my purse whenever he had been more tha............