“Very well, Mr. de la Molle. Now I have on my part one condition and one only to attach to this offer of mine, which is that my name is not mentioned in connection with it. I do not wish Cossey and Son to know that I have taken up this investment on my own account. In fact, so necessary to me is it that my name should not be mentioned, that if it does transpire before the affair is completed I shall withdraw my offer, and if it transpires afterwards I shall call the money in. The loan will be advanced by a client of Mr. Quest’s. Is that understood between us?” “Hum,” said the Squire, “I don’t quite like this secrecy about these matters of business, but still if you make a point of it, why of course I cannot object.” “Very good. Then I presume that you will write officially to Cossey and Son stating that the money will be forthcoming to meet their various charges and the overdue interest. And now I think that we have had about enough of this business for once, so with your permission I will pay my respects to Miss de la Molle before I go.” “Dear me,” said the Squire, pressing his hand to his head, “you do hurry me so dreadfully—I really don’t know where I am. Miss de la Molle is out; I saw her go out sketching myself. Sit down and we will talk this business over a little more.” “No, thank you, Mr. de la Molle, I have to talk about money every day of my life and I soon have enough of the subject. Quest will arrange all the details. Good-bye, don’t bother to ring, I will find my horse.” And with a shake of the hand he was gone. “Ah!” said the old gentleman to himself when his visitor had departed, “he asked for Ida, so I suppose that is what he is after. But it is a queer sort of way to begin courting, and if she finds it out I should think that it would go against him. Ida is not the sort of woman to be won by a money consideration. Well, she can very well look after herself, that’s certain. Anyway it has been a good morning’s work, but somehow I don’t like that young man any the better for it. I have it—there’s something wanting. He is not quite a gentleman. Well, I must find that fellow George,” and he rushed to the front door and roared for “George,” till the whole place echoed and the pheasants crowed in the woods. After a while there came faint answering yells of “Coming, Squire, coming,” and in due course George’s long form became visible, striding swiftly up the garden. “Well!” said his master, who was in high good humour, “did you find your man?” “Well no, Squire—that is, I had a rare hunt after him, and I had just happened of him up a tree when you began to halloa so loud, that he went nigh to falling out of it, so I had to tell him to come back next week, or the week after.” “You happened of him up a tree. Why what the deuce was the man doing up a tree—measuring it?” “No, Squire, I don’t rightly know what he wor after, but he is a curious kind of a chap, and he said he had a fancy to wait there.”