signing himself James Dutton--announcing his belief that Mr. Mark Wylder
is dead--_is dead_--and has been made away with by foul means; and I have
arranged, immediately on his arrival, at his desire, to meet him
professionally, and to hear the entire narrative, both of what he knows
and of what he suspects.'

As Jos. Larkin delivered this with stern features and emphasis, the
captain's countenance underwent such a change as convinced the attorney
that some indescribable evil had befallen Mark Wylder, and that Captain
Brandon Lake had a guilty knowledge thereof. With this conviction came a
sense of superiority and a pleasant confidence in his position, which
betrayed itself in a slight frown and a pallid smile, as he looked
steadily in the young man's face, with his small, crafty, hungry eyes.

Lake knew that his face had betrayed him. He had felt the livid change of
colour, and that twitching at his mouth and cheek which he could not
control. The mean, tyrannical, triumphant gaze of the attorney was upon
him, and his own countenance was his accuser.

Lake ground his teeth, and returned Jos. Larkin's intimidating smirk with
a look of fury, which--for he now believed he held the winning cards--did
not appal him.

Lake cleared his throat twice, but did not find his voice, and turned
away and read half through the epitaph on Lady Mary Brandon, which is a
pious and somewhat puritanical composition. I hope it did him good.

'You know, Sir,' said Captain Lake, but a little huskily, turning about
and smiling at last, 'that Mark Wylder is nothing to me. We don't
correspond: we have not corresponded. I know--upon my honour and soul,