it was eleven o'clock in the morning, and mr. charles yeldham was hard at work, his oak rigidly closed, the sleeves of his dressing-gown turned up, his hair in a grand state of "towzle," caused by the frequent passage of his hands through it; a shower of fresh ink-splotches dotting the carpet close by his desk, and other indubitable signs of a hard case of "treadmill." it had occurred to mr. yeldham, in the midst of applying a wise saw to a modern instance, that somebody was tapping at his outer door; but entirely engrossed by the vastness of the application, he had given himself to rubbing his hands together under his desk, and had wholly ignored the knocker. in the act of taking a fresh dip of ink, preparatory to the elaboration of a sentence which should utterly confound his adversary the opposition chamber-counsel, mr. yeldham paused, and, recognising the peculiar taps at the door as those only known to the affiliated, charley, with some faint idea that it might be gordon frere coming in for a chat and a smoke, laid down his pen, and unbolting the door, admitted robert streightley.

very pale, with a bright hectic flush under the eyes, and with an unnatural brightness in the eyes themselves; with his hat drawn over his brow, and his shoulders far more rounded than when yeldham had last seen him, robert streightley wrung his friend's hand, entered the room, and without invitation flung himself into a chair by the desk. the appearance of the man was so changed, the action was so contrary to his usual custom, that charles yeldham looked hard at him, and looking, noticed the restless quivering of his lips, the odd manner in which he plucked at his chin with his hand, the way in which from time to time he pressed his side, as though to check the beating of his heart. yeldham noticed all these points; but his voice never betrayed him, and he said perfectly calmly,

"well, robert, old man, it's not often you venture into my quarters--afraid of the law, eh, old fellow?--think that i shall entangle you into a dispute with rothschild, or show how easily you could promote a claim against the barings? however, i'm glad to see you now you are come."

"i'm sure you are, charley; and i know you'll be more glad to see me--i mean more ready with your sympathy and advice--when you learn that i have come to you--in trouble."

"in trouble? o yes, i recollect; i saw in the papers. dreadful thing about mr. guyon; so sudden, and at such a place! dreadful for your wife too; i suppose she feels it acutely?"

"i suppose she does. i can't say--i don't know!"

"you can't say--you don't know! why, hubert, old fellow, mr. guyon's death must--"

"i didn't come here to talk to you about mr. guyon's death, yeldham; i came to speak of my own affairs."

"why, robert, how you--what on earth's the matter with you, man?"

"what on earth's the matter with a man whose wife--whom he adores and worships--has left him for ever?"

"has left him for ever? good god, streightley, what's the matter with you; you've not been----"

"no, i'm not drunk, charley, if you mean that; and grief has not turned my brain yet; at all events i know what i said, and i mean it--read that!" and he handed him katharine's note.

yeldham read it through with contracting brows and pursing lips. he read it twice; then streightley said, "that note was posted to me, and reached me the morning after my wife left her home. you see that it does not give the slightest clue to her whereabouts."

"it does not--it----"

"why do you hesitate?"

"well--there was no occasion for you to show me that letter; and you would not have shown it to me, i presume, if you intended your confidence to end there."

"i have come here to ask your advice and help, and with the full intention of concealing nothing from you."

"that is the only condition under which advice, to be worth any thing, can be given. mrs. streightley in that letter speaks of some plot or conspiracy of which you were cognisant, by which her whole life was warped and spoiled. i'm not quoting exact words, but that remains upon my mind as the sense of the passage. what does she mean by that?"

"she means that i, whom you have always known as an honourable man, acted on one occasion like a sneak and a scoundrel!--she means that i was so mad in my pursuit of her before we were married, that i descended to the use of foul means to carry my point; that i was base enough to be party to an arrangement which, as she says, warped and spoiled her life, for the sake of getting her for myself."

"this is strong language, robert! knowing you as i do, i should think your conduct even in this matter can hardly have been such as to justify this self-condemnation."

"wait and hear the story before you judge. you know how i loved katharine guyon. i told you all about it that first day we went down to middlemeads; i told you how, the first time in my life, i was passionately, madly in love with her. we spoke, if you recollect, of your friend gordon frere; but i did not tell you what i then knew--that he had paid great attention to miss guyon; that these attentions had been very well received by her, and that there was a very strong flirtation--if not an understood engagement--between them."

"you did not tell me, but i knew it. i had been told of it by gordon himself."

"you knew of it, and yet listened to my love-ravings? however, the flirtation, engagement--whatever it was--was gall and wormwood to me. i had seen them together on several occasions, and the recollection of the pleasure which she always showed in his society used to madden me. i made all kinds of excuses to go to her house; i lent her father money whenever he asked for it; each time i saw her i was more madly in love, but she was no nearer to me than before. one morning her father wrote to me to come to him on urgent business. i thought he wanted more money, but he explained that it was to consult me--i who was so calm and clever and far-seeing, god help me!--as to the future of his child. he had that morning had a letter from mr. gordon frere making a formal proposal for miss guyon's hand, and enclosing another letter to miss guyon herself."

here charles yeldham shifted his position, leaning forward in his chair, and fixing his eyes on streightley's face.

"i did not read either of these letters," continued robert; "but mr. guyon explained to me their purport, and i knew at once my doom. mr. guyon expressed his dislike to the proposed connection, stating that mr. frere was too young, too frivolous, and too poor to be intrusted with miss guyon's future. in an instant, and almost without knowing what i did, i proposed to mr. guyon for his daughter. he accepted me instantly, declared himself delighted, and assured me that he would smooth matters for me with miss guyon. but there was frere's letter. we both knew that she was fond of the young man; we both knew that she would accept his offer; we--yes, we both agreed that the letter should be kept back from her, and that she should never be informed of frere's proposal."

"good god!" exclaimed yeldham, "and that intention was carried out?"

"at once. frere was answered by mr. guyon that his daughter was engaged to me, and--there! i cannot go through the sickening details of that time again, nor describe the manner in which that girl was cheated of her lover and made over to me. since then the knowledge of my treachery has never left me, i may fairly say i haven't had one happy hour, and--could i only get my wife back, and prove to her how sincere is my desire to atone for my part in this plot, i should not repine at its having come to light. you don't speak, yeldham; you despise me--you----"

"i don't despise you, robert; i pity you from the bottom of my soul," said yeldham in a hard dry voice. "i don't think, much as i have heard it talked of, that i ever believed in what men call the power of passion before. that it made whole idiots of the half-brained people who chose to let it get the mastery of them, i understood; but that under its influence you should have permitted yourself to have your sense of right and wrong warped and degraded--that you should have suffered yourself to become a conspirator with, if not the tool of, such a thorough-paced scoundrel as old guyon, is to me most marvellous. i confess i thought there was something queer in the case; but i never dreamed of this."

yeldham stopped speaking for a minute; but as robert streightley remained silent, his head buried in his hands, charley rose to his feet and began striding up and down the room, as was his fashion when very much excited.

"i should be no true friend to you, streightley, if i did not tell you all i feel in this matter," he said, "though i cannot express in strong enough terms my horror at what has been done. when i recollect how that poor fellow gordon frere went away almost heart-broken, and soured in temper, at the way in which he thought he had been treated by miss guyon--his visits unacknowledged, his letters unreplied to, his proposal rejected,--when i think how he stormed about her conduct and cursed her--yes, cursed her, poor girl, as a heartless coquette; cursed her for what it now appears she not merely had nothing to do with, but was a fellow-victim in,--when i think of all this, i feel i must be drunk or dreaming when connecting my old friend robert streightley with such a deliberate piece of villainy! don't start, robert; it was a hard word, but it was the right one. i'm not a friend of yesterday; we've been like brothers since we were boys, and you know i'd give my life for you if it were wanted; but i claim the right to speak out plainly in this matter. why, it was but the other day that frere, who, thank god, came home quite cured of all that early romance, was here talking of you and your wife, and saying how lucky she was to have chosen for her helpmate in life such an honest, genuine, sterling good fellow."

"charley," pleaded streightley, crossing his hands behind his head, "for heaven's sake spare me this! to know what i was, what i seem to be, and what i am, is too much!"

"there then," said yeldham, pausing by his friend and laying his hand on robert's shoulder--"i've done. no talk will mend the matter, and besides, immediate action is needed. you say mrs. streightley had left your house?"

"she had; that letter came by the post the day after her father's death--the day on which she went away."

"and at present you have no clue to her whereabouts?"

"not the slightest."

charles yeldham sat down at his desk, and leaning his head on his hands, remained for a minute or two in deep thought. then he turned to his friend and said:

"mrs. streightley was, i should imagine from the little i saw of her, a woman of great force of character, and not likely to do a thing on the spur of the moment without calculating results. you see this letter, by its postmark, must have been written some hours after she left home. during those hours she was deliberating and forming her plan; and whatever that was, she'll hold to it, i'm sure. she has determined that you sha'n't trace her; and it's my opinion you'll have the greatest difficulty in doing it."

"we might employ the detectives, don't you think?" asked robert.

"detectives! there's been no detection done by the detectives since they were made the heroes of sensation novels; and, besides, we don't quite want to place your domestic history among the archives of scotland yard. no; whatever is to be done--and, as i said before, i fear the chance is small enough--must be done amongst ourselves. who were her female friends? intimates, i mean; dear and dearest, and all those things that women say and write to each other?"

"i--i scarcely know," said robert, looking blank. "she never appeared to me to have what one could call an intimate friend. there was lady henmarsh, who used to take her about before we were married; but there's not been over much cordiality between them lately, i should say; and mrs. stanbourne, who is a relative of katharine's, and a very charming woman, the kindest and best--so particularly nice to me, made me feel quite at home--but she's not in england, or i would have sent to her at once; and there's my sister ellen, and hester gould--mrs. frere, i mean--but of course, under the circumstances, she would not go to either of them."

"of course not," said yeldham, rubbing his head. "it's a tremendous knot--a most tremendous knot. i don't see my way in it the least. motive for leaving plain enough--discovery of this plot. inducement for her to go any where in particular? none. 'never will forgive you--never will look on your face again'--that means concealment, or i don't know but she's just the woman whose spirit would induce her to--no, not that either. too much pride; hates the world's talk and pity--no, no. what does she say about having taken nothing of yours? hadn't she any money?"

"she had a private banking account of her own, but i find she has not drawn a cheque for weeks. she has only taken with her some jewels which belonged to her mother, and which--ah, my darling! my darling!" and the strong man, who had borne up with such fortitude hitherto, broke down and wept like a child.

"robert--old fellow--for god's sake, any thing but that! have some brandy; have some----"

"if she should be in want--she, who never yet knew an ungratified wish--if she--o charley, i know i'm making a fool of myself, old friend, but i love her so! o heaven, i love her so!"

there were tears in honest charley yeldham's eyes as he sat himself down by his friend, and took his hand and said, "come, robert--be a man. i know it's hard to bear, horribly hard, and no preaching, and no attempt at consolation will make it any better. it must be faced and battled with. she's gone, and we must find her. it's one consolation to know that wherever she may be, she'll be certain, by that wonderful something which i have often felt, but which i can't explain, and which is innate in her, to command the respect of those she is thrown among. but the money-test is decidedly an awkward one. she has some jewels, you say; but she'll know nothing of the way to convert them into cash, and she's sure to be awfully done; and i suppose she was like most women, had not the least knowledge of the value of money?"

"well, no, poor child--not much, i think; you see, she has never had to----"

"of course not; i know. look here, robert; you must take a blunt question from a blunt man, and give a blunt answer if you choose. is what is beginning to be murmured about you in the city true?"

the colour flushed up into robert streightley's pale face at the question. the pride in his wife, in his position, had been things of later days; the pride in his city stability had been born in him, and nurtured in his youth.

"i will answer you, charley, in all truth," he said, with quivering lips; "but you must tell me first what the report is."

"the report is, that, hit heavily by the failure of hicks' bank, you have been trying to recover leeway by--well, what they call wild speculation; that you've got some tremendous bills in hand, and that----"

"there; quite enough. public rumour is, as usual, considerably in advance of the truth. we were hit by hicks' failure, but you'll find that streightley and son will weather the gale yet. pshaw!" streightley exclaimed, suddenly changing his tone--"i got relief from one confession, why should not i from another? i won't disguise from you, my dear charley, that we have been very heavily hit, and that our present situation is--well, what may be called precarious; but i hope, and think, we shall pull through."

"has this state of things been for long?"

"well--for some months."

"and mrs. streightley knew nothing of it?"

"god forbid! knowing how she had been purchased, was i to yield up the sole influence i possessed over her by telling her that the gold for which she had been sacrificed was only dross and dead leaves, and that the 'merchant prince' was on the brink of ruin? not i. and what has it come to now? she is gone, and i am left alone in my misery and desolation." his head fell on his breast as he said this, and the big tears rolled down his cheeks.

"look here, robert," said yeldham, laying his hand heavily on his friend's shoulder; "this won't do at all. you're all unstrung and out of health. get you home--if you're not absolutely wanted in the city--and rest a bit; you need it, heaven knows. leave this business to me--you know i'm a capital ferret--and i'll take it in hand at once, and you shall see me to-morrow with my report."

robert streightley wrung his friend's hand, and very shortly left the chambers; but charley yeldham remained for more than an hour with his chin buried in his hands, and his mind full of all he had heard. at length he put on his hat, and walked into fleet street, where, close by the top of middle temple lane, he encountered mr. daniel thacker.

it is scarcely necessary to say that, though they were acquainted, there was very little friendship between mr. yeldham and mr. thacker. the hebrew gentleman regarded the lawyer as a plodding snob; the conveyancing barrister regarded the west-end money-lender as an unscrupulous scoundrel; but they had met and been introduced, and were in the habit of stopping to exchange verbal civilities; and they did so on this occasion. after the first compliments had passed, mr. thacker expressed his regret at not seeing more of mr. yeldham in society, but added that he perfectly well understood how it was; there must be bees as well as drones--and mr. yeldham had the credit of being one of the most hardworking as well as one of the most deservedly successful bees in the legal hive. mr. yeldham--in his coldly formal politeness one could scarcely have recognised the warm-hearted charley, robert streightley's friend--mr. yeldham was compelled to leave society to those who adorned it, like mr. thacker; and, "talking of society," said mr. yeldham, "this is very sad news about our poor friend mr. guyon."

"sad enough for me," said mr. thacker with charming frankness. "mr. guyon was a client of mine; a client for whom i--like a soft fool as i was--however, that's neither here nor there--i shall have to stand the racket in that quarter, and be a considerable loser, i can tell you."

mr. yeldham expressed his concern, and attempted to terminate the interview; but mr. thacker caught him by the lapel of his coat. "and talking of that," said he, "this is a pretty business in portland place!"

in portland place? you would have gathered from the expression of mr. yeldham's face that it was the first time he had ever heard of that locality.

"yes, yes; you know what i mean," said mr. thacker impatiently; "guyon's son-in-law--streightley, the city man."

"streightley, the city man?" repeated yeldham; "ah, of course, dreadfully cut up at the sudden death."

"dreadfully cut up at the sudden death! i hope that's the only way in which he'll be cut up dreadfully. haven't you heard the news?"

by a shoulder-shrug which would have done credit to frederic lemaitre, mr. yeldham intimated his ignorance.

"well, then, mrs. streightley has gone away from her home--left her husband, sir; and no one knows where she's gone to."

"that's a very awkward statement to make, mr. thacker," said yeldham; "mrs. streightley, too, of all persons in the world! i suppose you have--you must have--excellent authority for such a story, or you would scarcely venture, a man of your perspicacity, to repeat it."

"all i know is, that a--well, in point of fact, a client of mine, mrs. frere, was with lady henmarsh, mr. streightley's great friend, and heard it when they called in portland place."

"mrs. frere--a client of yours? ay, ay! ay, ay! a strange story indeed, but one which we lawyers must take cum grano, as we say. good morning, mr. thacker." and yeldham bowed to his acquaintance, and passed on.

"a dry stick that," said thacker, looking after him; "a very dry stick. how much of that story did he know? every bit; more than any of us are acquainted with, for he was an old friend of streightley's, and has doubtless been consulted about the business. i've underrated that chap hitherto, i imagine; he did that very neatly, very neatly indeed. shook me off at the right instant too, at the very moment when i intended to pump him about streightley's liabilities; a deuced cool, clever hand. i'll remember you, my friend, when i want clear-headed advice."

"'in point of fact, a client of mine,'" said yeldham to himself as he went his way. "that's it, is it? mrs. frere a client of thacker's! fishy that--deuced fishy, considering her relations with the guyon-cum-streightley case. something to be made out of that, i fancy. i'll just take a turn round the regent's park before going back to head-work, and think that out."