That day all who could lift a pair of hands had work to do, and the next, and the next; but on the fourth day from the cyclone, when the fallen had been buried and the quick housed, Onslow managed for the first time to get a word _en tête-à-tête_ with this woman who had said she loved him and had promised to be his wife. He had conned the matter over in his mind, and after heavy argument had decided not to hold any of his affairs secret from her; this of course having particular reference to the one affair by which he hoped to make a competence. He had visions of difficulties with her over it, but he began his confidence artfully. “Elsie,” he said, “I came here to Florida on business.” “Then,” replied Miss Kildare, “I’d like to give business a knob of sugar to eat and flowers to wear on his headstall. What color was business? White?” “Black, distinctly black, but valuable. In figures, slightly more than a quarter of a million in English money ought to come to me for my share out of him; or rather, as it now is, our share; yours and mine, dear.” “Oh, you duck, Pat! You don’t mean to say I’m to marry a rich man? Wherever did you steal the money from? Speculation?” “Speculation of sorts, though steal describes it better. It’s there, and that’s the main thing.” “Money in the pocket is better than ten plans to get it there any day. Pat, we’ll have a big steam yacht, and when we get sick of London we’ll go and see all the rest of the world. But you of all people to become a successful speculator! Tell me, what have you been making your corner in? Nothing unclean I hope, like short ribs of pork?” “Gold, if that will suit your ladyship.” “Oh, this is delightful. You’ve been trading on American necessities. Tell me all about it. I think I can follow. One hears so much about the silver question, that one can’t help understanding it a little.” So, with a pardonable _couleur de rose_, wherever tinting was available, Onslow told the story of his finding the channel into the Everglades, his compact with Shelf, the hazardous voyage of the S. S. _Port Edes_, and the subsequent disposal of the specie. The girl listened to the tale with close attention and unmoved face. Even the account of the mutiny and the gruesome encounter between Nutt and his friend failed to call up comment, because in domestic Florida a little dashing homicide is such a very common occurrence. But when Patrick Onslow had finished his say and looked to her for approval, he only got a grave and decisive shake of the auburn head. “Well, dear,” he asked at last, made very anxious by her silence. “No, Pat,” she said quietly, “I can’t share in a fortune which has been laid up that way. Heaven knows, I’m not squeamish. Hearing what I do out here about Trusts and Corners and Syndicates, and seeing what I can’t help seeing of the way the people around make their living, and still evade the law and retain respect, my notions of morality are very easy and slack. But——”