Now, had Frank Hardy been a man of years and well versed in the ways of the world, he might have reflected thus-this is the nineteenth century; this though somewhat startling, may be but some drunken freak; and at any rate, it is no business of mine. But instead of this, he was young, impetuous, and prone to act upon the first generous thought of his heart; so without thinking of consequences he instantly started off at full speed after the fast retreating cab.

[It must be mentioned here that Hardy was not unobserved in his movements up to this point. As he went along Cheapside it so happened, that Jim, who had been detained later than usual, was going home, and as he lived with his mother on the other side of the water, he walked in the same direction and saw Frank some little distance in front of him. When he reached the Bridge he saw him leaning on the parapet as described, but before he had time to get within speaking distance, he was greatly surprised to see him turn round and suddenly dart off. Jim thought Frank had seen him, though in truth he had not, and seeing him run, he also ran in the same direction. He had not gone far however before he found himself in violent concussion with some soft substance, and then upon his back on a much harder, with an enraged biped standing over him gruffly demanding what he meant by knocking the wind out of a fellow in that way. Jim was quite under the impression that the knocking was on the other side. The man however, with whose internal economy Jim had unintentionally interfered by driving his head against his waistcoat, endeavoured to convince him of his error by the aid of sundry kicks. Jim got up as speedily as circumstances permitted and went on his way, but in the meantime Hardy had got out of sight and he saw no more of him. Indeed, that was the last seen of him by any of his friends for a long period.]

We may now follow Hardy in pursuit of the cab. At first the driver did not appear to observe that he was being followed, and after crossing the bridge and turning into a bye-street, he allowed his horse to fall into a slower pace. Shortly after this time a head was thrust out of the window and Frank judged that one of the travellers was aware of his presence and suspected his purpose, as immediately thereupon the driver looked back and then whipped his horse into a smart gallop, insomuch that he had great difficulty, having already traversed several streets, in keeping the cab in sight; and began to fear he must give up the chase from sheer exhaustion. A little incident here however occurred to stimulate him, for in making a rapid turn from one street into another, he caught sight of some object falling from the carriage, which upon examination proved to be a lady's glove. He took this as a fresh challenge to his efforts and it lent such speed to his heels that he positively gained upon the cab now rattling over the stones at something more than the usual rate. This fact seemed to be appreciated by the flying travellers also, for after the head had been once more thrust out and the driver had once again looked over his shoulder, he checked his horse and brought him to a sudden stop. Leaping from his seat, he ran back and confronted Hardy, who nearly breathless from his exertions was ill-prepared for a heavy

blow on the chest the other dealt him, without note or comment felling him to the earth. Beyond a shaking however, Hardy was not injured, and by the time the driver had taken the reins in hand again, was on his feet and following. It was plain to pursuer and pursued that this race could not go on much longer, Frank therefore made one more vigorous rush and contrived to get hold of the rail at the back of the vehicle. Seeing the impossibility of shaking him off, the driver again alighted, and after a hurried consultation with those within, two men got out adding rough usage to remonstrance in their endeavours to rid themselves of their unwelcome attendant. Frank was not to be denied. No efforts could force him from his hold. His assailants at length rendered desperate by his resistance gave vent to most fearful oaths and threats, threats which they would assuredly have put into execution but for the opportune appearance of two or three foot-passengers at no great distance. This interruption saved Frank a broken head if nothing worse, and it was now clear to him that he had fallen upon some great piece of villainy, as the two men, aided by him who was acting as driver, forced him without more ado into the cab, and getting in after him, the man of the whip needed no telling to get on apace. As he entered, a lady's voice appealed to him for help-but Hardy, exhausted by the struggle sank upon the floor too much bewildered by the turn the strange adventure had taken to reflect or determine what was the next best thing for him to do. In this state he was carried two or three streets' length when the coachman pulled up. While two of the party alighted he was forcibly detained by two others who threatened instant death if he dared to get out. The other two afterwards left and shut the door upon him one of them speaking to the driver—

"Cabman, put your passenger down at London Bridge."

These words spoken in broken English were instantly recognised by Frank who sang out—

"I should know that voice Mr. Skofling. have not heard the last of this business."

And let me tell you, you

Mr. Skofling, a frequent visitor at Grayling Court, also knew Frank's voice, which went to his heart like a dagger and nearly startled him out of his self-possession. This man however, deeply implicated in conspiracy against his native government, was well used to situations of great and sudden danger and knew from habit how to comport himself in the presence of an unexpected discovery. In an instant then he had resolved upon a line of action. Revoking his order to the supposititious cabman (who was in truth a confederate) he opened the door for Frank, saying

"If Mr. Hardy will step into the house I will explain the little circumstance."

Frank accepted the invitation after some hesitation, yet little thinking as he stepped over the threshold that he was cutting himself off from all he cared for for many weary months.

Skofling led the way to a room at the back of the house. Hardy noticed as they went several scowling faces just within another room,

and began to regret his entrance into such a place; still prepared however to risk something to learn the fate of the lady, and still hopeful that Skofling-whom he had known as a frequent visitor at Masters and Co.'s-and of whom he had no reason to suspect evil, might indeed be able to give a satisfactory explanation of his share in this remarkable affair.

His conductor pushed open a door and stood aside for him to enter, which he had scarcely done, ere a beautiful girl in great agitation sprang towards him and renewed her entreaty to be delivered from the bad man and horrible place to which he had brought her.

"This man," said she, "is a conspirator and has by infamous deceit brought me here hoping to entangle me in his vile plots."

Skofling, beside himself with rage, endeavoured to stop her, but Frank placed himself between them to prevent the violence he threatened while she in passionate language, broken by sobs, went on

"My poor brother has become the dupe of this wretch. On pretence of profitable business he was made the bearer of seditious papers and now lies in a Russian dungeon. In hope of hearing of my brother, I met this man who has forcibly brought me here. And, Oh Sir! if you had any pity save me from a fate so horrible that I would rather "

More than this she was not permitted to utter, as at this juncture a couple of ruffianly fellows, attracted by the noise, entered the room, and at a sign from Skofling rudely seized the unfortunate girl and dragged her out of the apartment.

Frank now saw, too late alas! that he had walked into a trap, out of which Skofling speedily assured him he could not go quite so easily as he had come.

The cries of the distressed girl were scarcely silenced when Skofling thus addressed him

"Mr. Hardy, you have entered into a secret without invitation: I am afraid I shall have to detain you longer than may be agreeable to your feelings."

"I am an Englishman, and you will detain me at your peril Sir!" replied Frank.

"You have heard enough Mr. Hardy to know that a little more 'peril' will not be likely to harm us " said the other coolly. "And since you are here you may be of some service to us. We are engaged in so many delicate negociations that might be advanced by the intervention of an Englishman, that I regard it as a fortunate accident that has brought you here.'

"What do you take me for to talk like that? Do you think I would be the tool of villians such as you for any inducement you could offer? I demand my liberty this moment!"

"That is an unreasonable demand, Mr. Hardy. You forced your company upon us; you have discovered our secret, or at any rate, so much of it, that out of pure consideration for our own welfare and that of the cause we have at heart we must put some restraint upon you. I regret the necessity but you will see the force of what I say."

"I see that I have made a huge mistake. I thought you were a gentleman, and find you are an unmitigated scoundrel. Let me out of this place I say!"

"If you think you can get through that window you are welcome to try, or through this door either when I have shut it: so!" and withdrew shutting the door with a bang.

Frank walked up to the window and raising the curtain saw it was heavily barred; he looked at the door, finding no appearance of lock or bolt on the inside, and conjectured aright that it shut with a spring and was strongly secured on the outside. He was a prisoner. Moved by a right impulse he had sought to help a fellow creature in distress, to do a kind and good action, and here he was at once called upon to pay the price of the luxury, and that no less a thing than his own liberty. Those who will do good must be prepared to pay a price in one way or another; it is not often they are called upon so promptly or so heavily as he was. Here then we must leave him to his own reflections-which no doubt were of a sufficiently painful character-to give some little account of two other persons of consideration so far as this history is concernedmentioning in passing, that Mr Downer, had a voice in the subsequent detention of Hardy; having gained some ascendancy over Skofling by means of loans bearing a heavy rate of interest-but how employed Downer professed not to know. When he heard from Skofling the circumstances of his capture he saw that it afforded him a ready method of gratifying his mean-spirited revenge for what he termed Hardy's insolence, he therefore lost no opportunity of urging upon Skofling the immense danger of releasing him.

CHAPTER V.

MR. QUIRKS AT HOME.

There were two persons who never gave up the hope of discovering their lost friend; two heads that ceased not to surmise and scheme; two hearts that would not rest till suspense should be exchanged for certainty as to his fate.

It will be remembered that Jim-messenger, and semi-tiger at Grayling Court-was somewhat inclined to an unfavourable opinion of Mr. Quirks on his introduction to that gentleman; an opinion, however, which Quirks found the way to alter before wishing him good morning as he left the office upon the day on which this story opens.

He was a man of such unbounded benevolence, that in spite of his own pressing perplexities, his heart and hands were continually full of beneficent designs upon society. It was a matter of comparative indifference to him where, or how, or to whom he ministered, so long as he found objects for the active exercise of his kindly instincts. And if true goodness is not particular about its objects neither is it slow in finding opportunities. Now there was that about Jim which excited the

generous impulses of Mr. Quirks. He was a youth but recently promoted from the streets through the intervention of a friend of Masters, sen., and had not yet had time to fit into his new circumstances. Periods of transition are proverbially trying and not infrequently painful. The transition from the street to the office, from fustian and freedom to the restraints of chocolate-coloured cloth and brass buttons proved no small trial to him; and though in the main proud of his present position, there were moments when he eagerly longed to be free from the burden of respectability it compelled him to bear. Mr. Quirks' penetration taught him that he might perhaps be a help to the lad, so having found the way to his good opinion by that royal road the present of a coin of the realm, he invited him to call at his house in the evening of the next day as he had something of importance to say to him. Jim cheerfully accepted the shilling and almost though not quite as cheerfully the invitation; for to tell the truth, some misgiving still lurked in his mind on the score of Mr. Quirks' queer appearance. Jim had been preached-at in his time, unmercifully preached-at for one of his years, and what if Mr. Quirks should turn out to be a preacher in disguise? The coin before mentioned however, and a closer scrutiny of his face turned the scale in favour of going to see him and so he promised.

On the day appointed, Jim, as thoroughly uncomfortable as a Sunday suit and an intense collar could make him, presented himself at No. 4, Wexford Street, the residence of Mr. Quirks, who was on the look-out and himself opened the door to receive him.

"Come in, Jim," said Quirks cheerily, seizing him by the hand, "let me hang up your hat. Rather cold isn't it? Walked here I suppose? And how is your mother?"

All this he said as if in a great hurry and without pausing for breath, or waiting for an answer.

Jim, overwhelmed by the heartiness of the welcome, followed Quirks in silence into his sitting-room.

"Now Jim," continued Quirks,-" by the bye Jim, what is your other name?"

"Brinkwater, Sir!" returned he.

"Oh, aye! Yes, yes. Brinkwater of course. Well, draw a chair up to the economiser Brinkwater and let us be comfortable. Nothing lost by making the best of things, Brinkwater." Suiting the action to the word he placed a chair for himself and another for Jim on either side of the grate which contained a small arrangement of burning fuel which his extreme conscientiousness forbade his calling a fire. Thus seated and by way of carrying on the conversation, Mr. Quirks enquired if Jim thought he could eat a Bath bun; to which Jim readily replied that he should'nt mind trying. A plate containing some half dozen of those delicacies was produced to which Jim gave his best attention, while Quirks half in soliloquy half to his young companion, proceeded something in the following strain

"What trivial things are the links that bind the events of life together, Many a rusty key will open memory's cabinet but time cannot dim the