through the fog (which in this district usually hangs about for some
time after sunrise) a man descend from his daughter's bedroom window
and walk hastily in the direction of the hotel. Both the distance
and the fog prevented him from positively recognizing the man's
features, but the form and carriage were unmistakably those of
Alfred Grandison. Mr. Sedley was, so to speak, "struck all of a heap,"
he could not believe the evidence of his own senses, and for a few
moments he stood rooted to the spot as if thunderstruck; then he
rushed into the house, and going straight to his daughter's room
upbraided her with her shameful conduct, but was met by a bold and
unqualified denial, the young lady stating that she had been till
that moment asleep, and that possibly some burglar had been in the
premises, whom her father had mistaken for a gay Lothario. She burst
into tears and wondered that her father could have such an opinion of
her, and suggested that immediate search should be made, to see if
any articles of value were missing. Her father was by no means
convinced of his mistake, however; he thought it possible that his
daughter might not have been aware of Grandison's presence, or that
he might only have been _about to enter_ the house when he was
frightened away; but that Grandison was there he felt certain, so,
going immediately over to the hotel, he charged him directly with
his crime, at the same time, presenting a loaded revolver at his head,
he threatened to blow his brains out. This, as may be supposed, did
not prove a ready means of eliciting a confession from the cowardly
Grandison. The poor wretch cowered before the righteous indignation
of the broken-hearted father, and swore by every saint in the
Calendar that the latter must have been mistaken, and that nothing
criminal had ever taken place between the young lady and himself.

Mr. Sedley only half believed these asseverations, but, as may be