"I'm Guldenheim, you know all about me; and these are my friends, who are in the same boat with me, you've heard about them; and these are our chaps. I suppose you know we've agreed not to make a fuss on condition that you give us possession of everything, to cut up between us so that we can get a bit of our own back again, what there is of it to cut up." "I do know." "Well, we've come into possession." As he looked at the girl and saw, dimly, what manner of girl she was, he seemed to think that he owed her some sort of apology, which he offered in a fashion of his own. "I dare say it seems hard to you, our coming in like this, but you must know that your father had our money, and my friends' money, and we can't afford to lose it, it isn't to be expected that we should; you must understand that." "I quite understand," said Nora. "Then that's all right," said Mr. Guldenheim. About that time some one was rapping at Miss Harding's bedroom door, on the other side of which Miss Harding was completing her toilette. "Who's there?" she asked. "It's me, Morgan; here, come closer to the door, I want to speak to you." She went so close to the door that even a whisper of his would have been audible. "What is it?" "The bailiffs are in down-stairs, the whole show's burst up. You'd better pack up--you know what, as soon as you can; and everything else you've got as well; and anything you see lying about worth packing; at a time like this anything's any one's. Only get a move on you; they may be up here directly, there's a lot of them, and there's no telling how they're going to do things, those sort of people can make themselves very nasty if they like; you don't want to have them superintending your packing; don't you let them in, if you can help it, till you've got your boxes locked. I thought I'd just give you a tip, so that you might look lively." Miss Harding acted on Mr. Morgan's "tip," beginning, so soon as he had gone, to pack everything she had got, and doing it with feverish haste; but had not proceeded far when something came rattling against the window-panes, something which sounded as if it were a handful of gravel. She drew aside the curtain and looked out. Mr. Nash was below, he waved his hand; apparently it was he who had saluted the window. Hurriedly throwing a dressing-jacket over her bare shoulders, she raised the sash sufficiently to enable her to put her head out, apparently oblivious of the fact that her black hair was streaming loose; she had been engaged in "doing" it when Morgan had knocked at the door. "Herbert! Did you throw those stones at my window? What do you want?" The reply from below was hardly an answer to her question. "I say! Now you are worth looking at! Now you're what I call something like a picture!"