‘No,’ said Jasper faintly, ‘I am not in a fit.’ ‘You looked much as if going into an attack of lock-jaw.’ At that moment Barbara came out, and at once noticed the condition of the convalescent. ‘Here,’ said she, ‘lean on me as you did coming out. This has been too much for you. Will you help me, Doctor Coyshe?’ ‘Thank you,’ said Jasper. ‘If Miss Jordan will suffer me to rest on her arm, I will return to my room.’ When he was back in his armchair and the little room he had occupied, Barbara looked earnestly in his face and said, ‘What has troubled you? I am sure something has.’ ‘I am very unhappy,’ he answered, ‘but you must ask me no questions.’ Miss Jordan went in quest of her sister. ‘Eve,’ she said, ‘our poor patient is exhausted. Sit in the parlour and play and sing, and give a look into his room now and then. I am busy.’ The slight disturbance had not altered the bent of Mr. Jordan’s thoughts. When Mr. Coyshe rejoined him, which he did the moment he saw Jasper safe in his room, Mr. Jordan said, ‘I cannot believe that I ran any risk with the money. The man to whom I lent it is honourable. Besides, I have his note of hand acknowledging the debt; not that I would use it against him.’ ‘A man’s word,’ said Coyshe, ‘is like india-rubber that can be made into any shape he likes. A word is made up of letters, and he will hold to the letters and permute their order to suit his own convenience, not yours. A man will stick to his word only so long as his word will stick to him. It depends entirely on which side it is licked. Hark! Is that Miss Eve singing? What a voice! Why, if she were trained and on the stage——’ Mr. Jordan stood up, agitated and angry. ‘I beg your pardon,’ said Coyshe. ‘Does the suggestion offend you? I merely threw it out in the event of the money lent not turning up.’ Just then his eyes fell on something that lay under the seat. ‘What is that? Have you dropped a pocket-book?’ A rough large leather pocket-book that was to which he pointed. Mr. Jordan stooped and took it up. He examined it attentively and uttered an exclamation of surprise. ‘Well,’ said the surgeon mockingly, ‘is the money come, dropped from the clouds at your feet?’ ‘No,’ answered Mr. Jordan, under his breath, ‘but this is most extraordinary, most mysterious! How comes this case here? It is the very same which I handed over, filled with notes, to that man seventeen years ago! See! there are my initials on it; there on the shield is my crest. How comes it here?’ ‘The question, my dear sir, is not how comes it here? but what does it contain?’ ‘Nothing.’ The surgeon put his hands in his pockets, screwed up his lips for a whistle, and said, ‘I foretold this, I am always right.’ ‘The money is not due till Midsummer-day.’ ‘Nor will come till the Greek kalends. Poor Miss Eve!’ CHAPTER X. BARBARA’S PETITION.