_PROEM:--To be Filed for Reference Hereafter_

Lady Allonby followed in all respects the Vicar's instructions; and
midnight found her upon the pier of Bishops Onslow, Colonel Denstroude's
big and dilapidated country-residence. Frank Orts had assisted her from the
rowboat without speaking; indeed, he had uttered scarcely a word, save to
issue some necessary direction, since the woman first came to him at the
Vicarage with her news of the night's events. Now he composedly stepped
back into the boat.

"You've only to go forward," said Frank Orts. "I regret that for my own
part I'm no longer an acceptable visitor here, since the Colonel and I
fought last summer over one Molly Yates. Nay, I beseech you, put up your
purse, my Lady."

"Then I can but render you my heartfelt thanks," replied Lady Allonby, "and
incessantly remember you in daily prayers for the two gallant men who have
this night saved a woman from great misery. Yet there is that in your voice
which is curiously familiar, Mr. Orts, and I think that somewhere you and I
have met before this."

"Ay," he responded, "you have squandered many a shilling on me here in
England, where Francis Vanringham bellows and makes faces with the rest of
the Globe Company. On Usk, you understand, I'm still Frank Orts, just as I
was christened; but elsewhere the name of Vanringham was long ago esteemed
more apt to embellish and adorn the bill of a heroic play. Ay, you've been
pleased to applaud my grimaces behind the footlights, more than once; your
mother-in-law, indeed, the revered Marchioness-Dowager of Falmouth, is
among my staunchest patrons."