He then asked Logan to acquaint Merton with
the new and favourable aspect of his affairs, and, after fixing Logan’s visit to Rookchester for the same date as Miss Willoughby’s, he went off with a juvenile alertness.
‘I say,’ said Logan, ‘I don’t know what will come of this, but something will come of it. I had no idea that girl was such a paragon.’
‘Take care, Logan,’ said Merton. ‘You ought only to have eyes for Miss Markham.’
Miss Markham, the precise student may remember, was the lady once known as the Venus of Milo to her young companions at St. Ursula’s. Now mantles were draped on her stately shoulders at Madame Claudine’s, and Logan and she were somewhat hopelessly attached to each other.
‘Take care of yourself at Rookchester,’ Merton went on, ‘or the Disentangler may be entangled.’
‘I am not a viscount and I am not an earl,’ said Logan, with a reminiscence of an old popular song, ‘nor I am not a prince, but a shade or two wuss; and I think that Miss Willoughby will find other marks for the artillery of her eyes.’
‘We shall have news of it,’ said Merton.
II. The Affair of the Jesuit
Trains do not stop at the little Rookchester station except when the high and puissant prince the Earl of Embleton or his visitors, or his ministers, servants, solicitors, and agents of all kinds, are bound for that haven. When Logan arrived at the station, a bowery, flowery, amateur-looking depot, like one of the