Shortly afterwards Mr. Beauchamp returned to his lodgings as the Quiet Gentleman. Having been informed by Alan, on his way to the Moat House, that Lestrange was there with Sophy, he had taken off his false wig and beard to confound him; but now, in spite of the girl's protestations, he put them on again.

"No, child, no," he said; "I am as dead as Richard Marlow, and I shall not come to life again. What purpose would it serve? It would only cause a scandal, and the papers would be full of the story. I have no wish to be a nine days' wonder."

"But, father, what will you do?--where will you live?"

"Oh," said he, with a smile, "I dare say you will carry out the terms of the will and let me have that two thousand a year. I shall take my departure from Mrs. Marry's as the Quiet Gentleman, and appear in London as Herbert Beauchamp. You can join me there, and we can go on our travels."

"But what about me?" cried poor Sophy, who had found her adopted father only to lose him again.

"You shall marry Alan."

"But I want you to be at the wedding, father."

"I shall be at the wedding, child, and I shall give you away."

Alan looked at him in surprise.

"Then you will be recognized, and the whole story will come out."

"So it would if you were married here," answered Beauchamp composedly. "But the wedding must take place in London. Can't you see, Alan, that Sophy must be married to you under her true name--Marie Lestrange?"

"Oh, must I?" cried the girl in dismay.

"I think so; otherwise I doubt if the marriage would hold good."

"You are right," said Alan, after a pause. "We must do as you say. But I am sorry. I wanted to be married here, and I wanted Phelps to marry us."

"There is no reason against that. Bring him to London and tell him the whole story."

"But I will never be called Marie!"

"No, no; you will always be Sophy to us," said her lover, kissing her. "And we will go abroad with Mr. Beauchamp for our honeymoon."

"With my father!" cried Sophy, embracing the old man; "my dear and only father!"

He sighed as he kissed her good-by. He was devoted to his adopted daughter, and felt deeply parting with her even to so good a fellow as Alan Thorold. But he comforted himself with the thought that they could be much together abroad. And so, taking this cheerful view of the situation which had been created by the villainy of Lestrange, the ex-millionaire, as he may now be called, withdrew to his lodgings. It was there that Alan took leave of him, promising to call the next morning. A thankful heart was Herbert Beauchamp's that night. The sorrow of his life was over, the dark clouds had lifted, and now, under his own name, and with a good income, he could spend the rest of his days in peace. Lestrange had slunk back into the night whence he had emerged, leaving one part of the mystery cleared up by his confession. It still remained to discover who had been the murderer of the unlucky Warrender. And that came to light the very next day.

Alan did not wait until Beauchamp had departed for London to acquaint his revered tutor with all that had taken place. On the afternoon of the next day he proceeded to the Rectory, and told the whole story to the amazed and delighted Phelps, Nothing would serve but that he must go at once to Mrs. Marry's and see with his own eyes the man who had been buried alive. But Alan restrained the Rector's impetuosity by pointing out that Mrs. Marry supposed Brown, the Quiet Gentleman, to be dumb. If by any chance she should hear him speak all secrecy would be at an end.

"Ay, ay," assented Mr. Phelps, "true enough, Alan, true enough. Mrs. Marry is a terrible gossip, and we must keep the matter quiet. I don't want my churchyard to be made the subject of another scandal. But I must see Marlow--I mean Beauchamp. God bless me! I shall never get his name right--may I be forgiven for swearing! Bring him here, Alan--bring him at once. I must see my old friend after all he has suffered."

This Alan agreed to do, and an hour later appeared with Beauchamp and Sophy. Phelps received his old friend as one returned from the dead, and insisted upon having several points cleared up which he felt to be obscure.

"How about getting away, Marlow?" he asked. "You had no clothes. How did you manage?"

"But I had clothes," replied Beauchamp. "We prepared all our plans very carefully. Joe took a suit of clothes to the hut, and brought money with him. Then I walked to the nearest town and caught the train for London. There, at a quiet hotel, a box in the name of Beauchamp was waiting for me. I slept there, and went on to Brighton, and took rooms in Lansdowne Place. I was comfortable, you may be sure. Joe came down to see me, and told me all the trouble which had ensued upon the death of Warrender."

"Ah!" said Alan reflectively; "we don't know who murdered him, and we never shall know. It could not have been Lestrange, and if it were the Quiet Gentleman, he has escaped us."

"I wonder who that Quiet Gentleman was," said Sophy.

"We all wonder that, my dear," put in the Rector; "but I fear we shall never know."

"Well, what does it matter?" said Beauchamp, with more asperity than he usually showed. "Whoever murdered Warrender gave him no more than he deserved. The man was a blackmailer, although the money he got out of me was obtained under the guise of friendship. He could have saved me years of agony had he only spoken the truth--ay, and honesty would have paid him better than dishonesty."

"No doubt. But the man is dead; let us not speak evil of the dead," said Phelps. "But there is one question I wish to ask you, Marlow--Beauchamp, I mean. How was it that the page-boy swore Joe Brill was never out of the room on that night?"

"Joe drugged the lad's supper-ale, and slipped out when he was fast asleep. He did the same the next night when he had to take Warrender's body to the vault. That was my idea, for I was terrified lest I should be traced by the murder, and I wanted to get rid of the evidence of the crime. That tramp, confound him! spoilt all."

They were interrupted by the entrance of a servant, with the card of Inspector Blair. He was admitted at once, leaving a companion whom he had brought with him in the hall.

"You must excuse my intrusion, sir," he said, addressing Mr. Phelps; "but I have already been to the Moat House and to the Abbey Farm in search of Mr. Thorold."

"Here I am," said Alan. "What is the matter, Blair? You have some news."

"I have, sir. I have been to London, and I have brought back with me a gentleman whom Mr. Beauchamp may know;" and he summoned the gentleman in the hall.

"Barkham!" exclaimed Mr. Beauchamp; "you here!"

Mr. Barkham was a dapper dark man, not unlike Lestrange, with an expression which a schoolboy would have called "sneaky." He did not recognize Mr. Beauchamp until that gentleman stripped off beard and wig. Then he hastened to acknowledge him.

"Mr. Beauchamp," he said, in a servile voice, "I hope, as I warned you of Lestrange's plot, you will hold me blameless."

"Why? What have you been doing?"

"I will tell you," interposed Blair. "This gentleman, as you see, bears a slight resemblance to Captain Jean Lestrange. He and the Captain were hard up in Jamaica, and seeing your portrait............