"O, that's it, eh? I don't know about the proprieties; but when the gal knows more of me, she'll guess I'm one of 'em. Nothing improper about me--no loafin' rowdy ways, such as some of your friends have. Pay my way as I go, ask no favours, and don't expect none." He gave his trousers pockets a ringing slap as he spoke, and looked round with a sneering laugh. "There, there! It's all right; now sit down, and have a glass of wine, and tell us the news." "No," he said, "thank'ee. I've been liquoring up in the City, where I've been doin' a little business--realizing some of them Lake Eries and Michigans as I told you on. Spanking investments they were, and have turned up trumps." "I hope you're in the hands of an honest broker," said Routh. "I could introduce you to one who--" "Thank'ee, I have a great man to broke for me, recommended to me from t'other side by his cousin who leads Wall-street, New York City. I have given him the writings, and am going to see him on Tuesday, at two, when I shall trouser the dollars to the tune of fifteen thousand and odd, if markets hold up, I reckon." "And you'll bring some of that to us in Tokenhouse-yard," said Routh eagerly. "You recollect what I showed you, that I--" "O yes!" said Deane, again with the sinister smile. "You could talk a 'coon's hind leg off, you could, Routh. But I shall just keep my dollars in my desk for a few days. Tokenhouse-yard can wait a little, can't it? just to see how things eventuate, you know." "As you please," said Routh. "One thing is certain, Deane; you need no Mentor in your business, whatever you may do in your pleasures." "Flatter myself, need none in neither," said the young man, with a baleful grin. "Eh, look here, now: talking of pleasures, come and dine with me on Tuesday at Barton's, at five. I've asked Dallas, and we'll have a night of it. Tuesday, the 17th, mind. Sorry to take your husband away, Mrs. R., but I'll make up for it, some day. Perhaps you'll come and dine with me some day, Mis R., without R.?" "Not I, Mr. Deane," said Harriet, with a laugh. "You're by far too dangerous a man." Mr. Deane was gone; and again Stewart Routh sat over the table, scribbling figures on his blotting-pad. "What are you doing, Stewart?" "Five dollars to the pound--fifteen thousand," he said, "three thousand pounds! When did he say he would draw it?" "On Tuesday, the--the day you dine with him." "The day I dine with him! Keep it in his desk, he said, for a few days! He has grown very shy about Tokenhouse-yard. He hasn't been there for a week. The day I dine with him!" He had dropped his pen, and was slowly passing his hand over his chin. "Stewart," said Harriet, going behind him and putting her arm round his neck--"Stewart, I know what thought you're busy with, but--" "Do you, Harry?" said he, disengaging himself, but not unkindly--"do you? Then keep it to yourself, my girl, and get to bed. We must have that, Harry, in one way or another; we must have it."