The Greatest Thrillers of Fergus Hume. Fergus Hume

had cost her dearly many a time. But that Hagar was a noble woman it would have cost the frivolous beauty dearly now.

      "No, Mrs. Delamere," replied Hagar, keeping her temper--for really this weak little creature was not worth anger--"I do not wish for money. I came to return you these letters, and I should advise you to destroy them."

      "I shall certainly do that!" said the fashionable lady, seizing the envelope held out to her; "but you must let me reward you."

      "As you would reward any one who returned you a lost jewel!" retorted the gipsy, with curling lip. "No, thank you; what I have done for you, Mrs. Delamere, is above any reward."

      "Above any reward!" stammered the other wondering if she heard aright.

      "I think so," responded Hagar, gravely. "I have saved your honor."

      "Saved my honor!" cried Mrs. Delamere, furiously. "How dare you! How dare you!"

      "I dare, because I happen to have read one of those letters; I read only one, but I have no doubt that it is a sample of the others. If Mr. Delamere read what I did, I am afraid you would have to go through the Divorce Court with Lord Averley as co-respondent."

      "You--you are mistaken," stammered Mrs. Delamere, drawn into defending herself. "There is nothing wrong between us, I--I swear."

      "It is no use to lie to me," said Hagar, curtly. "I have seen what you said to the man; that is enough. However, I have no call to judge you. I came to give you the letters; you hold them in your hand; so I go."

      "Wait! wait! You have been very good. Surely a little money---"

      "I am no blackmailer!" cried Hagar, wrathfully; "but I have saved you from one. Had Lord Averley's valet become possessed of those letters, you would have had to pay thousands of pounds for them."

      "I know, I know," whimpered the foolish little woman. "You have been good and kind; you have saved me. Take this ring as---"

      "No, I want no gifts from you," said Hagar, going to the door.

      "Why not--why not?"

      Hagar looked back with a glance of immeasurable contempt. "I take nothing from a woman who betrays her husband," she said, tranquilly. "Good-night, Mrs. Delamere--and be careful how you write letters to your next lover. He may have a valet also," and Hagar left the magnificent room, with Mrs. Delamere standing in it, white with rage and terror and humiliation. In those few contemptuous words of the poor gipsy girl, her sin had come home to her.

      Hagar had come to the West-end to see the woman who had written the letters; now she walked back to her Lambeth pawn-shop to interview the man to whom they had been sent. She was not a girl who did things by halves; and, bent upon thwarting in every way the scoundrelism of John Peters, she had sent a message to his master. In reply Lord Averley had informed her that he would call on her at the time and place mentioned in her letter. The time was nine o'clock; the place, the dingy parlor of the pawn-shop; and here Hagar intended to inform Lord Averley of the way in which she had saved Mrs. Delamere from the greed of the valet. Also, she intended to make him take back the casket and repay the money lent on it. In all her dabblings in romance, Hagar never forgot that she was a woman of business, and was bound to get as much money as possible for the heir of the old miser who had fed and sheltered her when she had come a fugitive to London. Hagar's ethics would have been quite incomprehensible to the majority of mankind.

      True to the hour, Lord Averley made his appearance in Carby's Crescent, and was admitted by Hagar to the back parlor. He was a tall slender, fair man, no longer in his first youth, with a colorless face, which was marked by a somewhat tired expression. He looked a trifle surprised at the sight of Hagar's rich beauty, having expected to find an old hag in charge of a pawn-shop. However, he made no comment but bowed gravely to the girl, and took the seat she offered to him. In the light of the lamp Hagar looked long and earnestly at his handsome face. There was a look of intellect on it which made her wonder how he could have found satisfaction in the love of a frivolous doll like Mrs. Delamere. But Hagar quite forgot for the moment that the fullest delight of life lies in contrast.

      "I have no doubt you wondered at receiving a letter from a pawn-shop," she said, abruptly.

      "I confess I did," he replied, quietly: "but because you mentioned that you had my casket I came. It is here, you say?"

      Hagar took the silver box off a near shelf, and placed it on the table before him. "It was pawned here two weeks ago," she said, quietly. "I lent thirteen pounds; so, if you give me that sum and the month's interest, you can have it."

      Without a word Lord Averley counted out the thirteen pounds, but he had to ask her what the interest was. Hagar told him, and in a few moments the transaction was concluded. Then Averley spoke.

      "How did you know it was my casket?"

      "The man who pawned it told me so."

      "That was strange."

      "Not at all, my lord. I made him tell me."

      "H'm! you look clever," said Averley, looking at her with interest. "May I ask the name of the man who pawned this?"

      "Certainly. He was your valet, John Peters."

      "Peters!" echoed her visitor. "Oh, you must be mistaken! Peters is an honest man!"

      "He is a scoundrel and a thief, Lord Averley; and but for me he would have been a blackmailer."

      "A blackmailer?"

      "Yes. There were letters in that casket."

      "Were letters!" said Averley, hurriedly, and drew the box towards him. "Do you know the secret?"

      "Yes; I found the secret recess and the letters. It was lucky for you that I did so. Your indiscreet speech to a friend informed Peters that compromising letters were hidden in the casket. He came here to find them; but I had already removed them."

      "And where are they now?"

      "I gave them back to the married woman who wrote them."

      "How did you know who wrote them?" asked Lord Averley, raising his eyebrows.

      "I read one of the letters, and then Peters told me the name of the lady. He proposed to me to blackmail her. I ostensibly agreed, and went to see the lady, to whom I gave back the letters. I asked you here to-night to return the casket; also to put you on your guard against John Peters. He is coming to see me to-morrow, to get--as he thinks---the money obtained by means of the letters. That is the whole story."

      "It's a queer one," replied Averley, smiling. "I shall certainly discharge Peters, but I won't prosecute him for thieving. He knows about the letters, and they are far too dangerous to be brought into court."

      "They are not dangerous now, my lord. I have given them back to the woman who wrote them."

      "That was very good of you," said Averley, satirically. "May I ask the name of the lady?"

      "Surely you know! Mrs. Delamere."

      Averley looked aghast for a moment, and then began to laugh quietly. "My dear young lady," he said, as soon as he could bring his mirth within bounds, "would it not have been better to have consulted me before giving back those letters?"

      "No," said Hagar, boldly, "for you might not have handed them over."

      "Certainly I should not have handed them to Mrs. Delamere!" said Averley, with a fresh burst of laughter.

      "Why not?"

      "Because she never wrote them. My dear lady, I burnt all the letters I got from Mrs. Delamere, and I told her I had done so. The letters in this casket signed 'Beatrice' were from a different lady altogether. I shall have to see Mrs. Delamere. She'll never forgive me. Oh, what a comedy!" and he began laughing again.

      Hagar was annoyed. She had acted for the best, no doubt; but she had given the letters to the wrong woman. Shortly the humor of the mistake struck her also, and she laughed in concert with Lord Averley.

      "I'm sorry I made a mistake," she said, at length.

      "You