“No doubt—­no doubt,” Brand said; but the pointed way in which his companion had spoken did not escape him, and promised to afford him still further food for reflection.

But if this was a threat, he would show no fear.

“Molyneux wishes to get back North as soon as possible,” he said, in a matter-of-fact way, just as if talking of commonplace affairs the whole time.  “I suppose his initiation could take place to-morrow night?”

“Certainly,” said Mr. Lind, following his visitor to the door.  “And you must certainly allow me to thank you once more, my dear Mr. Brand, for your service in securing to us such an ally.  I should like to have talked with you about your experiences in the North; but you agree with me that the suggestion I have made demands your serious consideration first—­is it not so?”

Brand nodded.

“I will let you know to-morrow,” said he.  “Good-morning!”

“Good-morning!” said Mr. Lind, pleasantly; and then the door was shut.

He was attended down-stairs by the stout old German, who, on reaching the front-door, drew forth a letter from his pocket and handed it to him with much pretence of mystery.  He was thinking of other things, to tell the truth; and as he walked along he regarded the outside of the envelope with but little curiosity.  It was addressed, “All’ Egregio Sigmore, Il Signor G. Brand.”

“No doubt a begging letter from some Leicester Square fellow,” he thought.

Presently, however, he opened the letter, and read the following message, which was also in Italian: 

“The beautiful caged little bird sighs and weeps, because she thinks she is forgotten.  A word of remembrance would be kind, if her friend is discreet and secret.  Above all, no open strife.  This from one who departs.  Farewell!”

CHAPTER XXV.

A FRIEND’S ADVICE.

This must be said for George Brand, that while he was hard and unsympathetic in the presence of those whom he disliked or distrusted, in the society of those whom he did like and did trust he was docile and acquiescent as a child, easily led and easily persuaded.  When he went from Lind’s chamber, which had been to him full of an atmosphere of impatience and antagonism, to Lord Evelyn’s study, and found his friend sitting reading there, his whole attitude changed; and his first duty was to utter a series of remonstrances about the thousand pounds.

“You can’t afford it, Evelyn.  Why didn’t you come to me?  I would have given it to you a dozen times over rather than you should have paid it.”

“No doubt you would,” said the pale lad.  “That is why I did not come to you.”

“I wish you could get it back.”

“I would not take it back.  It is little enough I can do; why not let me give such help as I can?  If only those girls would begin to marry off, I might do more.  But there is such a band of them that men are afraid to come near them.”