a coachman yet that didn't rob his employer. Well, thank you; I'm glad to
have had this talk with you, and now, I go to bed. Beastly cold, I must
say, this climate of yours!"

And with a very evident shiver the speaker buttoned the heavy fur coat he
had never yet taken off more closely round him.

"What about that man from Carlisle--and the furnace?" he inquired
sharply.

"He comes to-morrow, sir. I could not get him here earlier. I fear it
will be an expensive job."

"No matter. With my work, I cannot risk incessant attacks of rheumatism.
The thing must be done, and done well. Good-night to you, Tyson."

Mr. Melrose waved a dismissing hand. "We shall resume our discussion
to-morrow."

The agent departed. Melrose, left solitary, remained standing a while
before the fire, examining attentively the architecture and decorations
of the room, so far as the miserable light revealed them. Italian, no
doubt, the stucco work of the ceiling, with its embossed nymphs and
cupids, its classical medallions. Not of the finest kind or period, but
very charming--quite decorative. The house had been built on the site of
an ancient border fortess, toward the middle of the eighteenth century,
by the chief of a great family, from whose latest representative, his
mother's first cousin, Edmund Melrose had now inherited it. Nothing could
be more curious than its subsequent history. For it was no sooner
finished, in a pure Georgian style, and lavishly incrusted in all its