CHAPTER XXX

That afternoon the great High Priest had taken worse, and, as the evening set in, all knew certainly that he had little time to live. Nurses and physicians had been called to the dying bedside, and conspicuously amongst the number was St Armand. Not conspicuous for his attentions to the dying man, but simply for his presence there. He was the only one who dared to defy appearances, and occasionally to yawn. Moreover, he insisted on smoking his cigars--the High Priest was too far gone to object, he said. Thus on till nearly midnight--a gusty, showery night, with an eerie wind that rose and fell in sobbing intervals.

“Sister,” said he, as the shutters were being closed and the lights turned on, “how do you expect his holiness to die easily, lying under a cross beam and with the windows shut?”

“I do not understand you, sir.”

“How, in the name of the Serpent’s three tails, is he to get away under those conditions?”

The nurse, who was a sensible woman, thought that he was jesting, and she paid no attention.

After a while it was noticed that the dying man was becoming excited and very restless. His hands worked incessantly, and his sinking eyes gleamed with fire; but he could not speak, and the doctors thought his tongue was partially paralysed, for he made many efforts to frame words, but could not. Two or three times he tried to get out of bed, but was forcibly restrained.

“If you don’t open the windows he’s safe to be like that,” said St Armand, and he went over himself and unlocked the shutters, flinging open the window and looking out into the blackness of the night.

Everything without was absolutely silent, but for the rustling trees, swishing and bending in the wind, and the pattering rain-drops. For the skies above the gardens at Marble House were moonlit and serene--these storm-tossed and full of desolation.

And suddenly, in one of the long, intense pauses between gust and gust, was heard the soft rumbling of wheels, the rhythmic trampling of horses; and they came nearer and nearer into the courtyard underneath. And every one who heard them--besides St Armand there were five persons in the room--stood still and looked at one another, for there had been the sound of many hoofs, not few. The High Priest likewise, panting hard, sat up amongst his pillows, listening intently. Then, with a new excitement, he tried to speak, opening his mouth grotesquely, no sound issuing from the blue lips. It was so painful to see him, that those around, accustomed as most were to death-scenes, never forgot it.

But St Armand, curiously callous, after glancing once round at him, went abruptly from the room.

In the antechamber all was silent, till suddenly the panelled oaken door burst softly open, and Mr Barringcourt walked into the room.

“You’re late.”

“I’ve no morbid taste for watching people die. How is he?”

“Oh! very lively. Fidget! fidget! incessantly. Now, how about last night? All this is rather sudden.”

“Oh! last night passed quite all right. That is why he’s dying so soon, as you know.”

St Armand had drawn himself up to that height when he matched the Master.

“I don’t think it was so all right. So far as I have been able to make out, he underwent no temptation.”

“Under the circumstances it would have been too strong for him. I kept him sleeping.”

In the feeble light, each head thrown back, they looked at one another, and the gleaming lightning from each pair of eyes filled the room with a strange uncertainty.

“You kept him sleeping?”

“I did.”

“And what of Marigold?”

“She underwent the temptation instead.”

“That’s no test for him.”

“He is not qualifying for Heaven, you know--nor yet for Hell.”

“I’m not so sure of that latter. He ought to be. So Marigold underwent the temptation? Well, I did for her what you should have done. I showed her the way to go about it.”

“Yes. I think you rather went beyond the bounds of good taste.”

“Oh no. I blundered slightly, owing to your keeping so distinctly neutral since your return. I wonder, Barringcourt, if you’ve shown any distinctive skill over this game, or if a kindly Providence has done the work for you. You seem to me to have been particularly blind all through.”

The Master laughed lightly.

“You’ve just hit it. I’ve been as blind as a bat, with the one redeeming feature that I was there at the climax. I wondered you had left the coast so clear.”

“Yes. I presumed too far upon a lover’s quarrel.”

“And you’ve discovered your mistake.”

“That confounded beggar girl! She tricked me, she tricked you, she tricked him, and she tricked herself. Would I have wasted two minutes over her, if I had known from the first who she was? ‘Remarkably pretty girl,’ thought I at first; ‘too pretty to have been made for nothing.’ Then I saw Alphonso casting sheep’s-eyes that way. ‘Just the tool I want,’ thought I. ‘The one I’ve been looking for all over.’ And so she led us on all through, skill-less and innocent. All the same, she’s a fascinating little thing, Barringcourt. Just when you think she’s going to do something very, very bad, she does something exceptionally good--and when you anticipate something most saintly, then you’ll have to be careful. What are those papers?”

“For him to sign.”

“You’ve settled to close to-night, then?”

“Yes. I’m taking back all we ever gave him. There won’t be much left for you then.”

“No. I’m not keen on a husk. All the same, I think Vestasian should have given him another chance.”

“What! In all the record of these pages there is not one ‘Thank you’--not one sincere and humble prayer of thanks.”

“I mean you should have given him a chance of going to Hell.”

“You’ll never miss him. The crowd is amply big enough. I must go in. Good-night.”

“Good-night. Remember me to Marigold when next you see her. Till we meet again!”

And so he went--and that little game was over. Plucritus checkmate--yet most even-tempered through it all.

And the Master went into the death-chamber, and the doctors, recognising him, made way, for, though he was but Dr Quack, he never advertised, and they had gained so much from his advice to them when struggling, unknown doctors, that they had called him “the Physician,” not knowing who he was.

The Master took the feverish pulse in his cool hand, his eyes looked into the restless dying ones, and a calmness settled on the room--only the shallow gasps were heard in quick succession.

And at last, to the surprise of all those who had watched beside him, the High Priest panted “Pen and ink,” and almost instantly the shallow breath had flown, and life departed.

And afterwards they thought all kinds of things, and wondered what he wished to write--wondering in vain.

That done, the Master left the High Priest’s Palace, and took the direct path to where he had fixed to meet Marigold.

Meanwhile, at midnight, as he had directed her, she had passed through the door in the shadowy stables--remembering how she had first crept through there--the terror and emotion.

And turning to the left, she walked on through the silent country, thinking on all the strange events of the past, so curiously linked with those of the present.

And she thought of Alice too--Alice, who would not be comforted--even with a comfortable pension, paid each month. And then most naturally her thoughts flew to the Master, and all the long waiting and the tender love, and the misunderstandings that, if possible, had endeared them to each other.

And, as the road grew steeper, her attention was directed to the scenes around.

Below, the blue abysses, hidden in mists, with jutting pinnacles of rock rising from out of them. Mountains and wooded plains on every side--massed peak behind peak into the far distance. Yet, covering the path where she was walking, a velvet carpet of mountain flowers blowing in the moonlit breezes. And above, the mystic rowan berries, scarlet and drooping--a contrast to the white airy bells beneath. And, thrilled with the intense beauty of the scene, Marigold sat down and waited.

And then, in the far distance, she heard a merry whistling, rich and clear, that came vibrating on the moonbeams--a simple shepherd song they sang in the mountain valleys, in that Land of Song where she had lived--a child.

And Marigold rose to her feet, smiling and joyous; and, as the sound came nearer, she began to sing--the old sweet notes, yet now far sweeter, that Patches used to love. And her rich notes, mingled with that flute-like accompaniment, caused all the air to tremble, and, from the shading bowers and trees around, a thousand merry throats poured forth a song--the magic notes of the perfect nightingale--passion and tenderness and love all blended with gaiety and Heaven’s sadness too, not that of duller spheres. Then, on an instant, the merry whistle ceased, Marigold’s song, and the birds’ ecstatic trills. For he had climbed the last steep point and stood beside her.

Intense stillness; the air still vibrating, though the song had gone in a thousand echoes up to Heaven.

Without a word, with eyes for no one else but him, she felt the strong arms round her, drawing her to his breast.

And thus they soared away, high over peaks and precipices, above the moon--the song of birds in the distance, like the lark in the deep blue sky; and beauty and light all round them, the rosy shafts of sunrise dyeing the silver rays of the moon.

THE END

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Castles in Kensington

Review of Reviews.--“Distinctly amusing.”

Dally Telegraph.--“We welcome the gaiety and humour with which the book is brimming over.”

Times.--“A light, good-tempered, and amusing comedy.”

St James’ Gazette.--“A clever and delightful exposition of the true art of trifling. No one with a taste for humour, without labels, can help liking this book.”

Record.--“A thoroughly honest and amusing story, the aim of which is to gently chide the pretentiousness of the more harmless type of summer society at a minor French watering place.”

The Comedy of Progress

Pall Mall Gazette.--“A cleverly-written story of more than usual interest. Mr Turner has here something to say, and says it well. From the first page onward we ollow the career of Maurice Yorke with close interest, an interest which never flags, and the final chapter is in every way equal to the book’s earlier promise. There is nothing slipshod, no falling off. The author has given us sterling good work throughout. The characterisation of Lady Sothern is excellent--so human withal. ‘The Comedy of Progress’ is a brilliant novel, its title, by the way, fitting it like a glove.”

Morning Post.--“Readers will be delighted with the ‘Comedy of Progress,’ by Reginald Turner. The story is told with skill and true artistic effect. Lady Sothern is an artistically drawn character, full of life and force. The charm and influence which she exercises over all who know her are quite convincingly expressed, and the scene with her husband when she confesses herself an old woman and stamps on her jewels is very ably done. Mr Turner may be sincerely congratulated on accomplishing a difficult task with more restraint and ability than one generally expects in such efforts.”

The Steeple

Bookman.--“A story of ar more than average merit, strongly imagined and developed with considerable craftsmanship.... Emphatically, this is a book to be read.”

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Cynthia’s Damages

Shefflied Telegraph.--“Mr Turner s style is bright and sparkling, and his powers of observation are evidently keen. Those who read ‘Cynthia’s Damages’ will, we are convinced, look forward with pleasure to another novel from the same pen.”

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While THE BISHOP OF LONDON, preaching at Westminster Abbey, said:

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FATHER IGNATIUS says:

“I found it most interesting.... I think the story may do much good. It gives a true picture of the plots and objects of the ‘Higher Critics.’ I hope there will be many future editions.”

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The conditions under which writers and readers have multiplied from the days of albums and keepsakes, written and edited by people of quality, to those of high class monthly reviews of to-day--The deeper movements and superficial changes, as well as the individuals connected with this progress, from the great Lord Lansdowne and Lord Stanhope to Lady Hayter and the Savage Club--Journalism behind the scenes, as well as before the footlights--The unpublished history of the great newspapers, London and Provincial, their editors and their writers--The revelations between writer, publisher, and public--are among the many points dealt with in this book.

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Morning Leader.--“When the rate of production and the path of least resistance count for so much, it is only too rare to find a novel which is marked by accuracy of workmanship, profound analysis, and a proper appreciation of the meaning of events in their influence on the characters of the story. Most authors are content with one or two principal and half a dozen shadowy subsidiary personages, whose individualities they are too lazy or too superficial to develop. In ‘The Rough Torrent of Occasion’ there is no sign of hurried slipshod work. There are many characters, each with a definite separate entity; each one is developed by carefully conceived events, and the interaction of personalities is both interesting and true to life. Furthermore, the writer is keenly alive to matters of real, vital importance in present day society, which is portrayed with a careful and well-balanced elaboration, without cynicism, exaggeration, or priggishness. On the other hand, there is throughout the book a vein of delightful humour, which relieves the more serious progress of the story. From its very excellence it will not be widely popular; yet this is a book which all lovers of true fiction will be deeply grateful. There is real work in it.”

Idylls of Yorkshire Dales. By JOHN CRAVEN. 6s.

Great Thoughts.--“A word of welcome to a volume of short stories, called ‘Idylls of Yorkshire Dales.’ There is a purity and sweetness and a tenderness in most of them that makes them very attractive, especially to those who are acquainted with these dale folk, and know how true these sketches are to life.”

Literary World.--“Mr. Craven knows the Yorkshire Dales and dale folk well, and these sketches are vigorous, spirited, and sympathetic. Those who care for the Yorkshire people will find much to interest and delight them, and all to whom simplicity, naturalness, and shrewdness of character appeal will find pleasure in Mr. Craven’s Idylls. He has a real gift of picturesque style.”

Morcar. A Novel by THOMAS SCOTT. 6s.

The Times.--“A readable story of the noble house of Morcar in the time of James I.”

Lloyds’ Weekly.--“Mr. Scott in this story has quite caught the vein of old-fashioned romance. He grips the reader’s attention.... Thrilling incidents are plentiful, and the historical element is well maintained.”

The Scotsman.--“Good historical romance is not too frequent in modern fiction, and an author who essays to lead the taste of novel readers in this direction is deserving of encouragement. Mr. Scott goes back to the sixteenth century, and out of the troublous happenings of these historic times he has constructed a briskly moving story of love and mystery.”

The Weaver’s Shuttle. A Novel by MRS. C. G. GALLICHAN. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.

Trim and Antrim’s Shores. A Story by HENRY G. FILDES. Cover designed by HERBERT COLE. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.

The Canon’s Butterfly. A Novel by MAX BARING (Author of “The Troubles of a Shovel Hat,” &c.) Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.

The Daily Mail.--“Related with irresponsible vivacity, and makes very light and lively reading.”

The World.--“Mr. Max Baring is the ‘agreeable rattle’ of present-day novelists. He is particularly agreeable and successfully rattling in his _invraisemblable_, but plausible novel ‘The Canon’s Butterfly.’... The book is funny because the author cannot help it, and is, indeed, rather apologetic for its fun.”

The Star.--“It amuses you from beginning to end. It is sadly flippant, gay, pert, and smart; but it is never dull or prosy.”

Jewel Sowers. A Novel. (ANONYMOUS). Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.

T.P.’s Weekly.--“There is good writing in this story, which undoubtedly shows imaginative power.”

Manchester Guardian.--“‘The Jewel Sowers’ is wholly fantastic in its incidents, but its characters are those of our society, and with all the machinery of a fairy tale, the book still belongs to the realms of daily fiction. Appropriately enough the scene is laid in another world, one in which everything is said to be the opposite of the life of this planet. But this is a mere warning that the tale is fantastic; men and women in Lucifram, as the new world is called, are even too much like those on this, and if their powers are strangely superior, their motives are entirely familiar. The book, in fact, is an experiment in fantasy, and none the less pleasant on that account. It is neither an allegory, as are other tales similarly constructed, nor yet a satire, though there are elements of both interwoven with the adventures and the incidents. The anonymous authoress has demanded a wider sphere for the evolution of her characters, and no one who feels the charms of her pleasantly depicted heroine will grudge the novel atmosphere in which she is forced to suffer and to act. The book is lightly written, bright, and entertaining, and almost every character introduced is neatly characterised. Perhaps the best of them is the fairy frog, whose cheerful temper is the result of martyrdom, and who should earn a place among the favourite heroes of the fairy world.”

A Heroine of Reality. A Novel by PERCY VINCENT DONOVAN. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.

To-Day.--“Picturesquely staged amid the mountains and valleys of Switzerland. The interest of this powerful story is centred in an unhappy middle-aged woman’s taint of drunkenness, and this secret vice forms the pivot around which the love story of three men for her daughter revolves. The characters are well drawn, and distinctly more human than those one is accustomed to meet in the average novel.”

The Staff in Flower. A Novel by WILLIAM PLATT (Author of “The Maid Lilias”). Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.

Bookman.--“It has, what so many novels have not, a definite purpose and a bold originality of outlook, It is a book which makes one curious to know who wrote it.”

Morning Leader.--“Written with undoubted strength and thought, and vigour of language.”

Christian World.--“A story which, despite some boldness, is strong and original.”

Lloyd’s News.--“It is a distinctly clever book, with many fine passages in it, and reading it is anything but a tiring task.”

The World.--“The vigour and boldness, recklessness indeed, with which theories are advanced, conclusions are rather wrenched then drawn, and flung at the reader’s head, give the book an attraction.”

His Grace’s Grace. A Novel by C. RANGER-GULL (Author of “The Serf,” “Back to Lilac Land,” “The Hypocrite,” &c.) Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.

Standard.--“Mr. Ranger-Gull is very clever. He can write well, even brilliantly.... Mr. Ranger-Gull opens his story vigorously, and his good spirits never flag. The book is brim-full of cleverness.”

Sketch.--“The novel is well constructed and brightly written. The reader will have only himself to blame if he does not get some good hearty laughs.”

A Moorland Princess. A Tale of Cornwall. By A. G. FOLLIOTT-STOKES. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.

Week’s Survey.--“A book which stands out from the mass of ordinary fiction as a rock stands out above the sea.”

Times.--“A very readable story.”

Yorkshire Post.--“A capital novel.”

Free Lance.--“Here then is a book worth reading.”

Daily Express.--“Pleasant, and sometimes exciting, reading. The heroine is a lovely character, finely drawn.”

The Danger of Innocence. A Novel by COSMO HAMILTON (Author of “The Glamour of the Impossible,” “Indiscretions,” &c.) Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.

World.--“A very sprightly and entertaining volume.”

Sunday Special.--“The author boldly depicts, under obvious pseudonyms, several well-known, even notorious persons. He has a bitter pen, and this book is sure to be read--especially by the victims.... ‘The Danger of Innocence’ is certain to be popular with the ‘smart’ set.”

Daily Express.--“A lively and diverting volume. Written in a satirically humourous vein. The book admirably succeeds in keeping the reader interested and amused throughout.”

A Tragic Contract. By MOUNT HOUMAS. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.

Scotsman.--“A story that carries the reader easily along with it by the vivacity of its movement. It is written with a pleasant animation which should not fail to afford enjoyment.”

Glasgow Herald.--“The book evinces strength of conception, and vigour and grace of elaboration, of which, presumably, more will presently be heard.”

When It was Dark. The Story of a Great Conspiracy. By GUY THORNE (Author of “The Oven,” &c.) 4th Edition. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.

This book has been praised and recommended by THE DEAN OF DURHAM, THE BISHOP OF EXETER, and the Rev. R. J. CAMPBELL; while THE BISHOP OF LONDON, preaching at Westminster Abbey, said:

“I wonder whether any of you have read that remarkable work of fiction, entitled ‘When it was Dark’? It paints, in wonderful colours, what it seems to me the world would be if for six months, as in the story it is supposed to be the case, owing to a gigantic fraud, the Resurrection might be supposed never to have occurred, and as you feel the darkness creeping round the world, you see how woman in a moment loses the best friend she ever had, and crime and violence increase in every part of the world. When you see how darkness settles down upon the human spirit when it sat for six months and regarded the Christian record as a fable, then you quit with something like adequate thanksgiving, and thank God it is light because of the awful darkness when it was dark.”

FATHER IGNATIUS says:

“I found it most interesting.... I think the story may do much good. It gives a true picture of the plots and objects of the ‘Higher Critics.’ I hope there will be many future editions.”

Pall Mall Gazette.--“The story is as effective a piece of work as could be desired.... Mr. Thorne is always reverent, and is touched with the dignity of the amazing scenes which he has invented.... We welcome his book as a real achievement in a very difficult line.”

Dally News.--“A remarkable book.... The picture of typical clergy, a Cabinet Minister with religious enthusiasm, and the millionaire, his great opponent, are all finely conceived and finely delineated; while the coming disaster, which casts its shadow before, is skilfully adumbrated.”

Out of the Past. Stories of the Ancient East by H. GEO. F. SPURRELL. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.

Athenæum.--“The stories--three in number--are concerned with the horrors and splendours of the mighty monarchies which shared, in ancient days, the dominion of the East, pre-Roman and pre-Mohammedan. It must be said he (Mr. Spurrell) has painted a bold picture in lurid colours; like the art of Assyria, its bulls and lions, it is splendid and impressive.”

British Weekly.--“‘Out of the Past’ takes us into the changeless East. The Author wears a magic veil, he sleeps and awakes with wondrous Oriental romances in his brain. They are wild and full of terrors, but they are fruits of a brisk imagination.”

Mary of Magdala. By EDGAR SALTUS (Author of “Mr. Incoul’s’ Misadventure,” &c.) Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d.

The Steeple. A Novel by REGINALD TURNER (Author of “The Comedy of Progress,” and “Cynthia’s Damages.”) Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.

The Times.--“Few readers who take it up will readily lay it down.... Mr. Turner is successful, and his sketches of men, women, and creeds are, generally speaking, humorous, shrewd, and suggestive.”

Observer.--“A very well told story; the characters are drawn with much freshness and clearness of delineation.... Bright and lively without being flippant. Mr. Turner’s story is decidedly entertaining and well written, and will probably be popular.”

Outlook.--“A purposeful story altogether out of the common ruck. It is both daring and convincing. The portrait of Frank Lester is surely as coolly relentless a thing as has been done for a long time.... It is excellently and pitilessly done.... We would quote some contingent excellencies. The chief, perhaps, is Mr. Turner’s dash in carrying off an extravagant situation.... His, also, is the gift of broad, almost farcial characterisation. And to these must be added a brisk turn in narrative, of which scarce a page lacks shining example.”

The Day of Prosperity. A vision of the century to come, by PAUL DEVINNE. Crown 8vo, cloth 6s.

Daily Telegraph.--“It is a clever story, with some strikingly novel views on political and social economy, and contains much genuine reflection and foresight.”

The Adventures of Mr. Topham: Comedian. By C. RANGER-GULL (Author of “The Hypocrite,” “Back to Lilac Land,” “The Serf,” &c.) Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d. Illustrated by Frank Reynolds.

Pall Mall Gazette.--“Mr. Ranger-Gull has achieved a really remarkable success.... The whole book goes with an air and a swing that make it excellent reading.”

Sunday Times.--“Mr. Ranger-Gull may be sincerely congratulated on his newest book.... In language simple and eloquent and without one unnecessary word, Mr. Ranger-Gull tells what befel an actor whose identity is not easily identified.... The best advice we can give to all who are interested in things ‘theatric,’ is to get and read this admirably written book at once.”

Mr. Incoul’s Misadventure. A Novel by EDGAR SALTUS. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.

Morning Post.--“An undeniably powerful work.”

Mr. Douglas Sladen in the Queen says:--“It is admirably written. He (Mr. Saltus) is the most blasé of writers, but one of the best in style. He is so terse that he can put a whole scene before you in a few lines.... His epigrams and phrases are simply admirable.... ‘Mr. Incoul’s Misadventure’ is a very powerful book.”

At Sunrise. A Story of the Beltane. By HERBERT SPURRELL. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.

The Ice Maiden. A Society Novel by “LADY FRIVOL.” Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d.

Whitehall Review.--“The writer has a very pretty gift of character drawing. The characters of the vain and flimsy society women are drawn with care, knowledge, and vigour.”

His Share of the World. By AMY GRIFFIN. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d.

Red Paint at Oxford. Frivolous Sketches of Undergraduate Life by “PISH” and “TUSH.” Crown 8vo, cloth, 2s. net.

The Light In Dend’s Wood and other stories. By THOMAS DAGLESS. Crown 8vo, cloth, 2s.

The ‘Liza Letters. A Humorous Book by TOM HEFFERNAN. Sewed, 1s.

For Satan’s Sake. a Novel by ELLIOTT O’DONNELL. Crown 8vo. cloth, 6s. (In preparation.)

Jim Blackwood: Jockey. By VICTOR MANDELSTAMM (translated by REGINALD BACCHUS). Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s. (In preparation.)

The Marquis Catilini. A Novel by ROLAND STRONG. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s. (In preparation).

King Phillp the Gay. By REGINALD TURNER (Author of “The Comedy of Progress,” “The Steeple,” &c.) Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s. (In preparation).

_POPULAR SIXPENNIES._

A Man Adrift. By BART KENNEDY.

Back to Lilac-Land. By C. RANGER-GULL.

Cynthia’s Damages. By REGINALD TURNER.

The Convict Colonel. By FORTUNE DU BOISGOBEY.

The Angel of the Chimes. By FORTUNE DU BOISGOBEY.

Drink (L’Assommoir). By EMILE ZOLA.

Seven Nights with Satan. By J. L. OWEN.

Sapho. By ALPHONSE DAUDET.

Daughters of Pleasure. By THE COUNTESS DE BREMONT.

The Pottle Papers. By SAUL SMIFF. Illustrated by L. RAVEN-HILL.

A Cry in the Night. By ARNOLD GOLSWORTHY (Jingle of “Pick-me-up.”)

Dan Leno: Hys Booke. Written by DAN LENO.

In Monte Carlo. By HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ, Author of “Quo Vadis.”

Jack Sheppard. By W. HARRISON AINSWORTH.

Dick Turpin (Rookwood). By W. HARRISON AINSWORTH.

The Serf. By C. RANGER-GULL. (In preparation.)

_London: GREENING & Co., Limited; and all Booksellers._

Transcriber’s Notes

The Table of Contents was automatically generated.

This file uses _underscores_ to indicate italic text.

Numerous spelling and punctuation anomalies in the final advertising section have been left untouched.

Footnotes have been renumbered and moved to the ends of their paragraphs.

Itemized changes from the original text:

On page 2, inserted quote mark after period, near “which they will read to the end” On page 3, inserted quote mark after JEWEL SOWERS, near “THE AUTHOR OF” On page 14, changed “god-like” to “godlike”, near “such, and everything in” On page 69, changed “tread-mill” to “treadmill”, near “of Fate” On page 92, changed “rose garden” to “rose-garden”, near “the sweet-scented” On page 109, changed “uuexpectedly” to “unexpectedly”, near “I was called away” On page 159, changed “bed-time” to “bedtime”, near “It is Timothy’s” On page 184, changed “arm’s-length” to “arm’s length”, near “held her roughly at” On page 231, changed “womanlike” to “woman-like”, near “having one man there for a protection” On page 245, changed “lovesick” to “love-sick”, near “maidens and their curious” On page 256, changed “fire-light” to “firelight”, near “in the flickering” On page 268, changed “beggar folk” to “beggar-folk”, near “And you called us”