peculiarities of a castle half modern and half mediæval, when the great door opened with a crunching and banging as if the hinges had not turned for a hundred years—and there, in the open doorway, illuminated by a single candle, whose rays only revealed the vast cavern of the hall beyond, stood the officer with whom Archy had just parted.

"Come in, nephew," said he.

CHAPTER III

Without a word Archy entered the vast hall. He was even self-possessed enough to help in dragging the great doors back to their places and securing them with chains and bars. Then, coolly folding his arms, his eyes travelled around the hall, gloomy but magnificent. Great gilt chandeliers hung from a noble roof; antlers and hunting trophies adorned the walls; rusty armor was plentiful, and close to him, looming up in the darkness pierced by the candle's single ray, was a manikin in armor, mounted on horseback. With lance in rest, and ghostly caverns in the casque where the eyes should be, he seemed to stand guard over that ancient place.

After a moment the officer spoke.

"Did your father never tell you of his half-uncle, near his own age—Colonel Baskerville, of the Indian service?"

Archy shook his head.

"My father told me as little as possible of his family in England. I do not even know what his quarrel with them was—only I know he felt a deep resentment against them."

"He had cause," responded Colonel Baskerville. "My half-brother, Lord Bellingham, objected violently and unreasonably to your father's marriage, and it cannot be denied that he ill-treated your mother under this very roof."

Archy, whose temper was quick, and who knew how to make a prompt resolve, and then to act upon it, stood still and silent for a moment; then, turning to the door, began to fumble at the intricate fastening of the chain, saying, quietly,

"How do you get out of this place, sir?"

"Highty-tighty," replied Colonel Baskerville, good-humoredly; "what are you trying to do?"

"To get away from here," said Archy. "I think, sir, that when a man has ill-treated my mother, I ought not to stay one moment in that man's house."

"But wait. Lord Bellingham ill-treated every member of his family who dared to marry without consulting his lordship. His only daughter married Captain Langton, a gentleman of character and fortune; but Lord Bellingham, who wanted to marry her off to a duke in his dotage, never forgave her."

"That is another reason why I should not stay in the house of such an old curmudgeon," responded Archy, with spirit.

"But you will, one day, be Lord Bellingham."

"No, I won't—or, rather, I can't—for I am an American."

Colonel Baskerville's first impulse was to say "Pooh." Luckily, he refrained—for if he had, Archy, whose hand was on the heavy door-knob, would have bolted out, and never, probably, would have set foot in those regions again. But Colonel Baskerville, seeing he had a hot-headed and impetuous fellow to deal with, only said in response to this:

"Listen. I have lately heard, from a safe quarter, that my brother is deeply repentant of his treatment of his son and daughter, and would be glad to atone to their children for his injustice to their parents. No human being has the right to refuse another human being the privilege of redressing a wrong—if a wrong may ever be redressed. Therefore, I insist that you shall see your grandfather."

Archy stood silent for a moment, while the idea took lodgment in his mind that generosity and forgiveness were not the mere indulgence of an impulse, but should be a fixed principle of action. He was intelligent enough to grasp Colonel Baskerville's meaning, and presently he said:

"You are right, sir. However, I never can benefit by my grandfather's estates, as I know that my father united in cutting the entail. As for this old rookery, it must take a fortune to keep it up."

"This old rookery, as you call it, is one of the finest specimens of the feudal age left in England. But let that pass. You are young and necessarily ignorant. No doubt my brother hopes that the family may be continued through one of his two grandsons. The other is Midshipman Hugh Langton, of his Majesty's sea-service."

"Trevor Langton!" cried Archy, breathlessly. "Of the Seahorse frigate?"

"The same. He is a gallant lad, I hear."

"Sir," said Archy, after a painful pause, "it was by a boat's crew of the Seahorse that I was captured—and Langton and I became great friends. I never knew we were cousins—and the Seahorse was lost off the coast of Spain in January, the very day I left her—and I, myself, saw Langton's body—"

Here he faltered; he could say no more.

Colonel Baskerville's grim face paled, and, putting the candle down with a shaking hand, he dropped upon the great oaken settee that was placed against the wall.