Such a prospect did not commend itself to me at all. That we were already being cheated all round I was sure. That we ran a great risk of being cheated to a much more serious extent if the Ogre was allowed to do as he suggested I felt equally convinced. And in any case I did not want his interference in our private affairs. It was dreadful to think of him peering and prying into mother's secrets, into the things which she held sacred. The way he was behaving now showed how much we could trust him and what use he would make of any knowledge he might acquire. Instead of being our friend he would be our bitterest enemy. And yet I did not see how we were going to get rid of him without a desperate struggle--of which, after all, we might get the worst. But I was not going to let him see that I was afraid of him. "Where is the money which was in mother's desk?" "Money? What money?" "Mother always kept a large sum of money in her desk. You have had access to her desk, though you'd no right to touch it. How much was there? and where is it now?" "I've seen no money." "Why, it is with mother's money that you have been paying for everything." "I wish it had been. I've been paying for every blessed thing out of my own pocket." "That's a lie!" shouted Dick. "I know there was money in her desk." "Look here, my lad--if you'll excuse my calling you my lad--the next time you speak to me like that I'll make you smart for it. Now, don't you expect another warning." "That's right," cried cook. "You give him a good sound thrashing, Mr Miller. He wants it. Accusing everyone of robbing him, when it's him who's trying to rob everybody!" The Ogre brought down his clenched fist heavily on the table. "Listen to me, you children. For all you know, and for all I know, you're nothing but a lot of paupers; and if you don't want to find yourself inside a workhouse you'll leave it to me to make the best of things. So now you've got it." We had got it. I saw Dick's cheeks blanch. I was conscious that my own went pale. If the awful thing at which he hinted was true, then things were miles worse than I had ever supposed. But was it true? And how, with him sitting there, were we going to look for proof of either its truth or falsehood? Just as I was beginning to fear that I should make a goose of myself and cry, I heard someone come up the front doorsteps and ask,-- "Is Miss Boyes at home? Miss Molly Boyes?" I rushed out into the hall. There, standing at the hall door, which was wide open, was the handsomest man I had ever seen. He was very tall and sunburned. He had his cap in his hand, so that you could see that he had short curly hair. And his moustache was just beginning to come. I wondered if he was a harbinger of more trouble. He did not look as if he was; but he might be. "I am Molly Boyes."