The Professor’s words were counted as the mere wandering of speech, and dismissed from memory until, when the inquest was over, and some days later the journey to Honor Oak cemetery and back at an end, Erb took upon himself the duty of examining the locked drawers of the desk. Then it was found that tardily in his life, the Professor had hinted at truth, for books entitled Post Office Savings Bank were discovered there, and it was realised that this old spendthrift, this most careless member of a careless profession, had hoarded carefully throughout his life, engaging stray half-crowns, only to add them instantly to his store, and the five brown covered books announced that to his credit stood what seemed to Erb and to Rosalind the extravagant fortune of nearly four hundred pounds. A will, drawn up in commendable order, directed that all this was left to “my dear daughter Rosalind, and may she forgive her father for many shortcomings, and think of him if she can, with affection and regard.” “This,” said Erb, when he had reckoned up the amounts on a slip of paper, “this is very satisfactory for you, but it makes all the difference to me.” “It’s going to make no sort of difference whatever,” said Rosalind emphatically. “Money matters always do.” “Depends on the people who have the money. Money in itself doesn’t bring happiness, but it doesn’t follow that it destroys it. Your Lady Frances, for instance—” “What makes you call her my Lady Frances?” “She looks upon you as her property,” said Rosalind, turning away. “If I hadn’t got such a stiff collar on I’d laugh,” declared Erb. “By the bye, I’m very glad to see by to-day’s papers that her sweetheart was on his way back before that nasty affair took place out near Tetuan; mysterious thing, rather. Been telegraphed for apparently, by somebody.” “I know.” “You saw about it in the paper?” “No,” said Rosalind. “Well, but how—” “_I_ sent the telegram,” she said quietly. “I thought it better he should be back here. I didn’t want her to get you.” Erb took her hands. She tried to keep her lips from his, but she tried for a moment only. “This simplifies matters,” he said. “I never could tell whether you liked me or not.” “You never asked!” “People will say I married you for your money,” he said half jokingly. “And I shall know,” replied Rosalind, patting his face, “that you married me because—because you liked me.” CHAPTER XVII