Mr. Morrice pursed his lips, and his face grew very hard. It wore the look that some of those who knew him in business dreaded to see. Upright and of iron resolution himself, he had small pity for the weak and self-indulgent. Above all, he loathed men who had made ducks and drakes of their money, who threw it away in unprofitable enterprises. “I own that I have heard some rumours of this, that he bets too highly, that he plays for too big stakes,” he said presently. “Well, it would be a good thing if Master Archie could be removed from such a corrupting influence.” “Would to heaven that he could be.” There was a note of almost anguish in the woman’s voice as she spoke, then she recovered herself quickly, and added in a calmer tone: “But it is too late. His uncle worships him, and he is devoted to his uncle.” * * * * * The morning came. Mr. Morrice was not going to his business house; a client was calling on him in Deanery Street, and after that visit had been paid, he was going to a jeweller’s in the West End for a certain purpose. He had lately purchased some very fine and expensive diamonds, which he had put away in readiness for an important event—the birthday of his wife falling a week hence. He was going to have these made up into a necklace and present it to her upon the happy occasion. Like most women, she was passionately fond of jewels, and though she already had plenty, he knew she would be delighted to add to her store. The client who was paying him a visit was coming to receive a large sum of money, a million francs, which the financier had put for safe custody in that wonderful safe to which allusion has been made. Morrice and Richard breakfasted alone that morning at an early hour, while the ladies stayed in bed to recover from the fatigue of the previous evening. Neither of the men spoke much during the progress of the meal. The financier’s busy brain was at work upon his various schemes, and he had almost forgotten that conversation a few hours earlier with his wife concerning her brother-in-law and Archie Brookes. Young Croxton was very preoccupied too. This was the day on which, fortified by the encouraging counsels of his sweetheart, he had resolved to screw up his courage and ask Morrice’s consent to his betrothal to Rosabelle. The two men from time to time looked at their watches, and at last the elder rose with a quick, alert movement. “It wants five minutes, Dick. Let us be going.” They went into Morrice’s study, a spacious room, solidly furnished. In a corner stood a big safe, from which, when the actual time arrived, they were going to take the packet of French notes and the loose diamonds. Two days previously they had shifted them to an easily accessible spot.