which ornamented its smooth convexity represented the classic adventure of Jason and the Golden Fleece.

The fireplace was of Caen stone with the family arms of the Hildebrands sculptured in the central panel. Not being versed in heraldic lore I may say briefly that the shield bore checkerboards and conventionalized lilies in alternate quarterings, while the crest was a mailed arm holding a burning torch or cresset. This last was interesting to me, for we Northern Hildebrands have always used as our crest a battlemented tower with flames issuing from its summit. But the motto: "Hildebrande à moy," is shared in common by both branches of the family.

The side walls had no openings and were lined from top to bottom with book shelves. The unusual height of the ceiling made narrow iron balconies necessary in order to give access to the upper shelves, and these galleries were reached by spiral staircases placed behind grilles in the dark corners on the entrance side. The end wall was pierced by four immense windows, two on either side of the fireplace, and these were filled with the English stained glass of which Mr. Eldon had spoken. They really seemed to be excellent examples of the art, and I proceeded to examine them with interest.

The designs were of Scriptural origin, Old Testament scenes to be exact, and I note them in order from left to right.

The window at the extreme left depicted the youthful Joseph journeying to Dothan and wearing his coat of many colors; in the background his jealous brethren are awaiting his coming and fomenting their unfraternal conspiracy.

The window adjoining the fireplace on the left represented the rebellion of the sons of Korah and their terrible fate in being swallowed up alive by the gaping earth; the black and menacing sky, shot through with the red zigzag of the lightning, seemed exceedingly realistic.

In the companion window on the right was shown the return of the Israelitish spies from the coveted land of Canaan, bearing great clusters of purple grapes from the valley of Eschol; in the distance, Jericho, with Rahab's house perched high upon the city wall and distinguished by its hanging cord of scarlet.

The fourth window, the one at the extreme right, reproduced the contest on Mount Carmel between Elijah and the pagan prophets, the fire from heaven consuming the burnt offering of Jehovah, the terror-stricken flight of the hierophants of Baal, and the little cloud, like to a man's hand, arising from the sea. Of the four windows this last one was perhaps the most interesting, although all of them were excellent in composition, substantially and skilfully leaded, and gorgeously rich in color. I don't know why we can't make such reds and blues in this country, but of course the old established English firms have been perfecting their formulas and processes throughout the centuries.

Since three of the four walls were lined with bookcases, and the remaining one had to provide for the windows and fireplace there was no available space for pictures, but on the blank wall above the central entrance door hung a magnificent tapestry depicting the tragic fate of Actæon devoured by his own hounds. The polished black oak floor was covered with Eastern rugs, and a fine silver-tip grizzly bearskin lay on the hearthstone. The couches and big, comfortable reading chairs were upholstered in dark green leather, very handsome and substantial, while directly under the dome stood a massive, flat-topped library desk made of teakwood. The accompanying swivel-chair was mounted on a bronze mushroom foot firmly secured to the floor by means of bolts; it was so placed that the occupant had his back to the windows, with the light coming over his shoulder after the proper fashion for comfort.

I have been particular in thus describing the furnishings and internal economy of the library, for in this room lay the very heart of the mystery so soon to present itself; later on I was destined to make myself acquainted with every square inch of its large area, only to fail in my attempt to discover its menacing secret. Fortunate indeed that Betty's feminine intuition asserted itself in the nick of time. But I must not anticipate the solution of the problem while the prime factors in the equation still remain unstated. Enough then to acquaint the reader with the general disposition of the stage upon which the drama was shortly to unfold itself.

The great room was very quiet, the evening shadows were beginning to lengthen, and still we waited.

Chapter III

Hildebrand of the "Hundred"

It must have been close to an hour before Mr. Eldon joined us; evidently his papers had been in more than usual confusion. A few minutes later the ladies appeared, together with a dozen or more negro servants connected in various capacities with the estate. John Thaneford jerked himself to his feet in apparently unwilling acknowledgment of the social amenities; his father, sitting impassively upright in an immense leather chair, looked more than ever like some gigantic, impossible infant. Miss Graeme went over and spoke a few words to him, but he barely nodded in reply; Buddha himself could not have improved upon that colossal, immemorial serenity. I had hoped that Betty would say something to me, but she contented herself with the briefest of smiles in my direction. A pretty girl? Why, yes, I suppose she would be so considered, with her slim, graceful figure and that pronounced type of Irish beauty—dark hair, eyebrows, and eyelashes; but the eyes themselves of the clearest cerulean blue, rubbed in with a smutty finger, as the saying goes. Yet somehow one never thought over-much of how fair Betty Graeme might be to look upon; perhaps it was just her perfect and altogether adorable femininity which made her different from other women; she entered the room, and forthwith all eyes were inevitably focused upon her; when the gods arrive the half-gods go, as Mr. Emerson acutely remarked. A phenomenon then, but I can't account for it and don't intend to try. Personality, magnetism—but these are just words, and she was Betty Graeme. A line from an old, half forgotten mediæval romance came back to me as I gazed upon her: "By God's Rood! that is the one maid in the world for me."

A revelation then, but love at first sight is by no means so common a thing as youth is apt to suppose. Only when it does come there can never be any doubt about it. I drew in my breath sharply, and the tense thrill seemed to permeate every molecule and atom of my being. Then came the reactionary thought: "But what can she be thinking of me?" and my exalted spirits evaporated with startling suddenness. The very warmth and kindliness with which she had at first greeted me only emphasized the immensity of the distance that divided us. The goddess may condescend to smile upon a mortal, but that does not imply that the poor man is safely on the Mount Olympus list. Just then I happened to glance up and caught the look bent upon her from under John Thaneford's beetling eyebrows. That boor, that uncouth, rustic bully! And yet he was of her class; they must have been playmates from childhood, the Thaneford acres marched with the Hildebrand holdings—why not? and my heart sank to my boots. Then I realized that I was on the point of making a pretty considerable fool of myself, and I resumed my seat; Mr. Eldon went through the usual preliminary hemmings and harrings, and the company prepared itself to listen.

The crisp sheet of parchment crackled in the lawyer's hands, and now he was reading, in an even monotone, the last will and testament of