Having assured herself that the panel selected is the one she requires, she presses her fingers steadily against the upper corner on the side farthest from the fire. Expectation lies in every line of her face, yet she is doomed to disappointment. No result attends her nervous pressure, but distinct defeat. The panel is inexorable. Nothing daunted, she moves her hand lower down, and tries again. Again failure crushes her; after which she makes one last attempt, and touching the very upmost corner presses hard.

Success at last rests with her. Slowly the panel moves, and sliding to one side displays to view a tiny cupboard that for many years has been lost sight of by the Rodney family. It is very small, about half a foot in depth, with three small shelves inside. But, alas! these shelves are empty.

Geoffrey utters an exclamation, and Mona, after one swift comprehensive glance at the rifled cupboard, bursts into tears. The bitter disappointment is more than she can bear.

'Oh, it isn't here! He has stolen it,' cries she, as one who can admit of no comfort. ' And I felt so sure I should find it myself. That was what he was doing when I came into the room. Ah! Geoffrey, sure, you didn't malign him when you called him a thief.'

'What has he done?' asks Geoffrey, somewhat bewildered, and greatly distressed at her apparent grief.

'He has stolen the will. Taken it away.

That

paper you hold must have fallen from him, and contains the directions about finding the right panel. Ah! what shall we do now?'

You are right-I see it now,' says Geoffrey, whitening a little. "Warden wrote this paper, no doubt,' glancing at the dirty bit of writing that has led to the discovery. He evidently had his knowledge from old Elspeth, who must have known of this secret hiding-place from my great-grandfather, My father, I

Here, on the night of woman must have

am convinced, knew nothing of it. my grandfather's death, the old hidden the will, and here it has remained ever since until to-night. Yet, after all, this is mere supposition,' says Geoffrey. We are taking for granted what may prove a myth. The will may never have been placed here, and he himself'

6

Her

'It was placed here; I feel it, I know it,' says Mona solemnly, laying her hand upon the panel. earnestness impresses him. He wakes into life.

6

Then, that villain, that scoundrel, has it now in his possession,' he says quickly. If I go after him, even yet I may come up with him before he reaches his home, and compel him to give it up.'

As he finishes he moves towards the window, as though bent upon putting his words into execution at once, but Mona, hastily stepping before him, gets between it and him, and raising her hand forbids his approach.

You may compel him to murder you,' she says feverishly; or-in your present mood you may murder him. No, you shall not stir from this to-night.' 'But begins he impatiently, trying gently to

put her to one side.

6

I

'I will not listen,' she interrupts passionately. know how you both looked awhile ago. I shall never forget it, and to meet again now, with fresh cause for hatred in your hearts, would be- - No! There is crime in the very air to-night.'

She winds her arms round him, seeing he is still determined to go, and throwing back her head looks into his face.

'Besides, you are going on a fool's errand,' she says, speaking rapidly as though to gain time. 'He has reached his own place long ago. Wait until the morning, I entreat you, Geoffrey. I' her lips tremble,

her breath comes fitfully-I can bear no more just

now,’

A sob escapes her, and falls heavily on Geoffrey's heart. He is not proof against a woman's tears-—as no true man ever is-especially her tears, and so he gives in at once.

6

'There, don't cry, and you shall have it all your own way,' he says with a sigh. To-morrow we will decide what is to be done."

'To-day you mean-you will only have to wait a few short hours,' she says gratefully. Let us leave this hateful room,' with a shudder. 'I shall never be able to enter it again without thinking of this night, and all its horrors.'

CHAPTER XXXII.

HOW MONA KEEPS HER OWN COUNSEL-AND HOW AT MIDDAY SHE RECEIVES A NOTE.

SLEEP, even when she does get to bed, refuses to settle upon Mona's eyelids. During the rest of the long hours that mark the darkness, she lies wide awake, staring upon vacancy, and thinking ceaselessly, until

Morn, in the white wake of the morning star,
Comes furrowing all the Orient into gold.

Then she rises upon her elbow, and notices how the light comes through the chinks of the shutters. It must be day indeed. The dreary night has fled affrighted the stars hide their diminished rays. Surely

Yon grey lines

That fret the clouds are messengers of day.

There is relief in the thought. She springs from her bed, clothes herself rapidly, and descends to the breakfast-room. Yet the day thus begun appears to her singularly unattractive. Her mind is full of care. She has persuaded Geoffrey to keep silence about all that last night produced, and wait before taking further steps. But wait for what? She herself hardly knows what it is she hopes for.

She makes various attempts at thinking it out. She places her pretty hands upon her prettier brows, under the mistaken impression common to most. people that this attitude is conducive to the solution of

mysteries, but with no result. Things will not arrange themselves.

To demand the will from Paul Rodney without further proof that it is in his possession than the fact of having discovered by chance a secret cupboard is absurd; yet not to demand it seems madness. To see him, to reason with him, to accuse him of it, is her one desire, yet she can promise herself no good from such an interview. She sighs as she thus seeks aimlessly to see a satisfactory termination to all her meditations.

She is distraite and silent all the morning, taking small notice of what goes on around her. Geoffrey, perplexed, too, in spirit, wanders vaguely from pillar to post, unable to settle to anything-bound by Mona to betray no hint of what happened in the library some hours ago-yet dying to reveal the secret of the panel cupboard to somebody.

Nolly is especially and oppressively cheerful. He is blind to the depression that marks Mona and Geoffrey for its own, and quite outdoes himself in geniality and all round amiability.

Violet has gone to the stables to bestow upon her bonny brown mare her usual morning offering of bread; Jack, of course, has gone with her.

Geoffrey is nowhere just at this moment. Doatie and Nicholas are sitting hand-in-hand, and side by side in the library, discussing their own cruel case, and wondering for the thousandth time whether-if the worst comes to the worst-(of which, alas! there now seems little doubt)-her father will still give his consent to their marriage. And if so, how they shall manage to live on 500l. a year, and whether it may not be possible for Nicholas to get something or other to do (on this subject they are vague) that may help 'to make the crown a pound.'

Mona is sitting in the morning-room, the faithful and ever lively Nolly at her side. According to his lights she is worth a ship-load of the whole lot,' and