“You ghoul!” said the invalid, glaring at him. “Is that the way to talk to a sick man? You unscrupulous rascal!” “It’ll be amusement for you,” pleaded the other, “and if we are successful it will be the best thing in the end for everybody. Think of the good you’ll do.” “Where you get such rascally ideas from, I can’t think,” mused the invalid. “Your father is a straightforward, honest man, and your partner’s uprightness is the talk of Sunwich.” “It doesn’t take much to make Sunwich talk,” retorted Hardy. “A preposterous suggestion to make to a man of my standing,” said the shipbroker, ignoring the remark. “If the affair ever leaked out I should never hear the end of it.” “It can’t leak out,” said Hardy, “and if it does there is no direct evidence. They will never really know until you die; they can only suspect.” “Very well,” said the shipbroker, with a half-indulgent, half-humorous glance. “Anything to get rid of you. It’s a crack-brained scheme, and could only originate with a young man whose affections have weakened his head—I consent.” “Bravo!” said Hardy and patted him on the back; Mr. Swann referred to the base of his left lung, and he apologized. “I’ll have to fix it up with Blaikie,” said the invalid, lying down again. “Murchison got two of his best patients last week, so that it ought to be easy. And besides, he is fond of innocent amusement.” “I’m awfully obliged to you,” said Hardy. “It might be as well if we pretended to quarrel,” said the invalid, reflectively, “especially as you are known to be a friend of Nugent’s. We’ll have a few words—before my housekeeper if possible, to insure publicity—and then you had better not come again. Send Silk instead with messages.” Hardy thanked him and whispered a caution as a footstep was heard on the landing. The door opened and the nurse, followed by the housekeeper bearing a tray, entered the room. “And I can’t be worried about these things,” said Swann, in an acrimonious voice, as they entered. “If you are not capable of settling a simple question like that yourself, ask the office-boy to instruct you. “It’s your work,” retorted Hardy, “and a nice mess it’s in.” “H’sh!” said the nurse, coming forward hastily. “You must leave the room, sir. I can’t have you exciting my patient.” Hardy bestowed an indignant glance at the invalid. “Get out!” said that gentleman, with extraordinary fierceness for one in his weak condition. “In future, nurse, I won’t have this person admitted to my room.” “Yes, yes; certainly,” said the nurse. “You must go, sir; at once, please.” “I’m going,” said Hardy, almost losing his gravity at the piteous spectacle afforded by the house-keeper as she stood, still holding the tray and staring open-mouthed at the combatants. “When you’re tired of skulking in bed, perhaps you’ll come and do your share of the work.” [Illustration: “’Puppy!’ Said the Invalid.”]