afternoon in question-that of the day succeeding the Pembertons' arrival in their dingy lodgings, doomed to disheartening dinners, and the ministrations of the bounding Leo

nora.

The baronet was sitting at a small table which had been wheeled near a window overlooking the Park, and was dashing off the dozenth of the many missives which were on his mind.

He had just concluded the despatch in question, and was meditating another when his valet entered the room in the stealthy manner peculiar to his class.

A person below, Sir Norman,' insinuated the man, 'wishes to speak to you.'

'You should not call a gentleman a person,' replied the baronet, with some asperity. It is Captain Pemberton, I suppose. Show him up at

once.'

And Sir Norman rose to meet his old friend; but before he could get to the door Martin interposed, with all due deprecation of himself

No, Sir Norman,' replied the man; 'it is not a gentleman, leastways not one of our gentlemen. It is the Indian party who has been twice before to see you here.'

And Martin presented the visitor's card, on which was inscribed

'Baboo Ramchunder Nellore.' The baronet looked angry and a little disgusted.

'How the man persecutes me!' he muttered; 'well, I suppose I must see him.'

And Sir Norman resumed his seat at the table like a man who sits doggedly down to undergo an unpleasant interview.

A minute after the visitor glided into the room with a step even more stealthy than that of the attendant. He was a fine-looking man, clad in the flowing garments worn by his class in Bengal, slightly adapted in material to the sterner climate of Europe. On his head he wore the inevitable pugree, but his feet were encased in English shoes, after the fashion of so many of his countrymen who aspire to the European privilege of not having to leave their slippers on the threshold be

fore they enter a house. His dress had but little ornament, and he wore very few himself-some small earrings and two or three massive finger-rings completing the equipment. So there was little to distract attention from the face of the wearer, which was bare of all hair except a small moustache upon the upper lip, and indicated craft and cunning of no common order. It was decidedly snaky indeed, and was made more repulsive from the fact that the white of the man's eyes was not so much white as yellow.

Baboo Ramchunder Nellore advanced to the baronet, making a low salaam.

'Good day, Baboo,' said Sir Nor man, not looking up from a letter to which he was adding the address. 'I can't say that I am very pleased to see you, for you always come upon unpleasant business.'

Protector of the Poor,' returned the Baboo, who spoke in English, except as regarded his complimentary salutation; the humblest of his slaves does but desire a little further light from the shining orb of his generosity.'

The Baboo spoke in the third person, according to oriental etiquette when a superior is addressed; but it will be seen that he dropped the form as he grew more familiar.

'The old story,' sighed the baronet. But there is little light left in me; my money is well-nigh exhausted; and your demands, as I have told you again and again, are as unfair as any demands that were ever made upon man.'

'You are harsh to me, sahib,' said the Baboo, in a cringing manner. 'I have never made the unhappy events to which my eyes and ears have borne witness a pretext for robbing you of your rupees. I cannot help knowing the accident by which your honour was led into a crime. I say nothing about that. I simply want money, which in your cold country is life, and I ask it of your generosity.'

'And you know well, Baboo,' replied the baronet, sternly, that were it not in your power to inflict upon me a great deal of annoyance, if not injury, you would not dare to