This small pleasantry did not excite Paul’s risible muscles much, but he was more pleased with it than with a volume of epigrams. It showed that experienced mariner, accustomed to slightest indications of wind and wave, that a change of weather had set in. His soul rejoiced as he took his daughter in his arms and exclaimed, ‘My darling, my darling, your mother is with the angels, but she watches over you still. Think of her when your old father is too far off or too dull to advise you. If she had lived——’ But here there were tears in the old man’s eyes, and the rugged features worked in such wise as to fashion a mask upon which no living man had ever gazed. There was a long confession. Once more every thought of Antonia Frankston’s heart lay unfolded before her parent. That morning, before driving, as usual, to the counting-house, Mr Frankston sought the Royal Hotel, and, upon business of importance, obtained an interview with Mr. Hardy Baldacre ere that ‘talented but unscrupulous’ aspirant had completed his breakfast. So decided was the assurance imparted by his visitor that, with all possible appreciation of the honour conferred, Miss Frankston felt herself compelled to decline his very flattering offer, that Mr. Baldacre knew instinctively that any further investment of the Morahmee fortress was vain, if not dangerous. He condoled with his early visitor about the state of the season, congratulating himself audibly that his runs were understocked, and that he had no bills to meet like some people; and finally accompanied Mr. Frankston to the door, with a friendly leave-taking, to be succeeded by a bitter oath as he lighted a cigar and paced the well-known balcony. ‘She has told her father. I saw the old boy was down to every move I had made. Knowing old shot, too, in spite of his politeness and humbug. I’d have hacked myself, too, at a short price, if I had had only another week’s innings. They may have heard something, or that fool Neuchamp is coming down and leaving everything to go to the devil. I had a good show, too. I thought I held trumps. Never mind, there are lots of women everywhere. One more or less don’t make much difference. Of course, it was the “tin” that fetched me, but I don’t see that I need care so much about that. I think that I shall make tracks to-morrow.‘ On the morning following that of Mr. Baldacre’s unlucky piece of information Paul Frankston lost no time in applying to headquarters for information. He, ‘with spirit proud and prompt to ire,’ would, a quarter of a century before, probably have smote first and inquired after. ‘But age had tamed the Douglas blood,’ and even if its current still coursed hotly on occasion, the experience of later manhood called loudly for plain proof and full evidence before he adopted the strange tale which had been told at his board. Suspending all thought of what he might chance if _any man_ were proved to have trifled with his darling’s heart, he simply wrote as follows: