At eleven Ashmead introduced his friend “Sharpus, manager of Drury Lane Theater,” and watched the fencing match with some anxiety, Ina being little versed in guile. But she had tact and self-possession; and she was not an angel, after all, but a woman whose wits were sharpened by love and suffering. Sharpus, alias Smith, played his assumed character to perfection. He gave the Klosking many incidents of business and professional anecdotes, and was excellent company. The Klosking was gracious, and more _bonne enfant_ than Ashmead had ever seen her. It was a fine match between her and the detective. At last he made his approaches. “And I hear we are to congratulate you on success at _rouge et noir_ as well as opera. Is it true that you broke the bank?” “Perfectly,” was the frank reply. “And won a million?” “More or less,” said the Klosking, with an open smile. “I hope it was a good lump, for our countrymen leave hundreds of thousands here every season.” “It was four thousand nine hundred pounds, sir.” “Phew! Well, I wish it had been double. You are not so close as our friend here, madam.” “No, sir; and shall I tell you why?” “If you like, madam,” said Smith, with assumed indifference. “Mr. Ashmead is a model agent; he never allows himself to see anybody's interests but mine. Now the truth is, another person has an interest in my famous winnings. A gentleman handed 25 pounds to Mr. Ashmead to play with. He did not do so; but I came in and joined 25 pounds of my own to that 25 pounds, and won an enormous sum. Of course, if the gentleman chooses to be chivalrous and abandon his claim, he can; but that is not the way of the world, you know. I feel sure he will come to me for his share some day; and the sooner the better, for money burns the pocket.” Sharpus, alias Smith, said this was really a curious story. “Now suppose,” said he, “some fine day a letter was to come asking you to remit that gentleman his half, what should you do?” “I should decline; it might be an _escroc._ No. Mr. Ashmead here knows the gentleman. Do you not?” “I'll swear to him anywhere.” “Then to receive his money he must face the eye of Ashmead. Ha! ha!” The detective turned the conversation, and never came back to the subject; but shortly he pleaded an engagement, and took his leave. Ashmead lingered behind, but Ina hurried him off, with an emphatic command not to leave this man out of his sight a moment. He violated this order, for in five minutes he ran back to tell her, in an agitated whisper, that Smith was, at that moment, writing a letter in the _salle 'a manger._ “Oh, pray don't come here!” cried Ina, in despair. “Do not lose sight of him for a moment.” “Give me that letter to post, then,” said Ashmead, and snatched one up Ina had directed overnight.