CHAPTER XXXV.

MADAME MANTALENT GOES ON THE WAR TRAIL.

'MAMMA,' said Mrs. Arnaud, when they were alone together, 'did you actually suspect me?' 'My love, I did.'

'Then you must make amends.'

'Yes, in what way?'

'First, you must in future be kinder to all of us than you have hitherto been; and secondly, you must assist us by the whole power of your brain.'

'I promise both things, my darling. Now let us get to work at once, and lose no time. From whom did Lord Festiniog get this telegram announcing James Drummond's death?'

'From Dr. Holland.'

'I suppose that the dead man must have told him to telegraph to his lordship, then. You know more about the late man than any one else had he any relations?'

None, that I am aware of.'

'What sort of a man is Dr. Holland? An upright man?'

'One of the noblest and most upright of men,' said Mrs. Arnaud.

That is a terrible nuisance. It is the way of the world. You can find rogues enough when you don't want them, and then when you want one particular man to be a rogue, you find him an honest man.'

'Why do you desire him to be dishonest, mamma?'

'It is fortunate that your mother was born before you, simpleton,' said the old lady. 'Do not you see that by this time he has made an inventory of the dead man's goods, and has the paper in his possession?

'That is perfectly true,' said Mrs. Arnaud.

'How long were you there with him, did you say?'

'About a fortnight.'

'What did you represent yourself to be?' 'His sister.'

'Cannot you go back in the same capacity, and take possession of everything? Why of course you

can.'

'I am sorry to say that we are checkmated there again,' said Mrs. Arnaud.

'Why?'

'That woman Carlina, who helped him to take George from me at Ravenna, had followed him

there, and she would be pretty sure to tell the truth, if it was only to spite me.'

'That does not follow,' said madame. 'Post away and try; you can do no harm by that. Go and see how the land lies.'

'It is rather a difficult thing for me, but if you advise-'

'I'll tell you what,' said the old lady, 'I'll go with you.'

'My dear mamma, with your rheumatism!'

'I shall howl occasionally,' she said coolly; 'you will explain the reason of that to our fellowvoyagers if they exhibit any symptoms of terror or alarm. All my pain will be amply compensated for if I can have the opportunity of matching my art against a woman. You are an excellent woman, but you are a nigaude, my dear. This Italian woman may be worth talking to. I daresay that she will give us a vast deal of difficulty, but all that will be intense pleasure to me. I only live in a world of excitement. Get the things ready, and we will start to-morrow morning.'

But what are we going to do?' said Mrs. Arnaud. 'It seems fearfully like a conspiracy.'

'It is one, my dear,' said Madame Mantalent. 'But you must help in it. The family were very kind to you. And moreover, you can scarcely help yourself, because by representing yourself as the

dead man's sister, and getting possession, with your usual cleverness, of every paper but the right one, you are deep in it already.'

This was obviously true, and Mrs. Arnaud abandoned herself to her fate, only remarking to her mother that they must be very careful, or that they would find themselves in Coldbath Fields prison.

Madame Mantalent assented to this. 'It shows you, my dear,' she said, 'how extremely careful we should be. Don't commit yourself and don't sign anything. Allow me to observe that it is not good ton to speak to a woman with chronic rheumatism (and that woman your own mother) of Coldbath Fields. It is sufficient of itself to bring on a violent lumbar attack.'

'Well, mamma, I trust you, and I will do everything you tell me. I have given you very much trouble in my life, and I will try to be dutiful now.'

'The result of which, my dear, will be that we shall probably end our days in jail. English jails are, I believe, very insufferable, but they cannot possibly be worse than the streets of London. In jail, my dear, there are neither shoeblacks, costermongers, nor whistling boys. If they place a shoeblack outside my cell, I have about me, in my stockings, the means of putting an end to an exist

ence which Providence evidently had decided to have lasted too long.'

'But you don't carry poison in your stockings, mamma,' said Mrs. Arnaud, anxiously.

'Far from it, my dear. I only speak as a milliner. From my knowledge of textile fabrics I could hang myself in my stockings most dexterously, that is all.'

'I could easily cut you down, mamma,' said Mrs. Arnaud, anxious to keep the old lady in good humour.

'My dear, no,' she replied. 'I get my stockings from a French firm, not from an English one. Go down and see if Lord Festiniog has gone.'

The report was that Lord Festiniog had been gone a long time. That Lord Rhyader had been there with Barri. That Clotilde was waiting supper, and that everything was quiet. Madame Mantalent descended to the little back parlour in better humour than she had been in for some years.

The aged female warrior scented a battle. The quarrel was none of hers, but the fighting was by no means less pleasant for that. In the middle ages Italians, Germans, Poles, Swiss, nay even it is said English, Scotch, and Irish, used to take part in wars with which they had logically no connexion whatever. Mr. Dugald Dalgetty had no personal quarrel with any human being, and had very few