disguise was perfect. I should never have known you for the youth I
parted from ten minutes ago."

"I can never thank you sufficiently, Sir Everard. Ah, if you knew how
I abhorred myself in that hateful disguise! Nothing earthly will ever
induce me to put it on again."

"I trust not," he said, gravely; "let us hope it may never be
necessary. You are safe here, Miss Silver, from the tyranny of your
uncle and cousin. The friendless and unprotected shall never be turned
from Kingsland Court."

She took his hand and lifted it to her lips, and once more the luminous
eyes were swimming in tears.

"I would thank you if I could, Sir Everard," the sweet voice murmured:
"but you overpower me! Your goodness is beyond thanks."

A footstep on the marble stair made itself unpleasantly audible at this
interesting crisis. Miss Silver dropped the baronet's hand with a wild
instinct of flight in her great black eyes.

"Return to your room," Sir Everard whispered. "Lock the door, and
remain there until I apprise my mother of your presence here and
prepare her to receive you. Quick! I don't want these prying prigs of
servants to find you here."

She vanished like a flash.

Sir Everard walked down-stairs, and passed his own valet sleepily