“You take it for granted,” said the shipowner sourly, “that I shall not put my veto on this scheme for spending my ward’s money.” “Why should you? You have given your consent to the marriage, and whatever may be your personal feelings towards me, at any rate, you like her. She wishes to marry me, and intends to do that anyway; she wishes for this estate, and I do not see that you have any reasonable grounds for refusing to gratify her wish; besides, as an investment, the thing is as good as a first mortgage or Three per cent. Corporation Stock.” “There are many grave objections to this course,” said Shelf. “Then, perhaps,” said Fairfax, “you will tell me what they are?” “I do not see that I am called upon to do anything of the kind.” “There we differ. Moreover, Mr. Shelf, you force me to a very unpleasant conclusion.” “And what, sir, might that be?” “Well, this,” said Fairfax, with a significant stare: “You’ve got that money so—shall we say, securely—locked up, that it isn’t readily available for this new investment.” “You are talking like a child,” said Mr. Shelf, noisily. “I am talking like a plain business man,” Fairfax retorted, “who intends to take reasonable care of his future wife’s property. I think that will explain my views; and, as nothing more need be said on that matter, I will leave you. The other trustee will call upon you at midday to-morrow, and I shall make it my duty to accompany him. So, for the present, sir, _au revoir_.” Fairfax left the room, and Mr. Theodore Shelf lay back in a swivel writing chair. Mechanically his fingers stretched out and dallied with a book which lay on the table. It was a Bradshaw. Once, indeed, he opened it, and turned up the pages of the express service between London and Southampton; and, for a full half-hour held it with his finger as a page-marker; but at the end of that time he flung the book savagely across the room, and stood up with clenched fists and the veins standing out of his forehead. “Amy may thank Fairfax for saving her property,” he muttered, “and a thousand people will curse him for doing it. I believe I’m a fool not to bolt now with what I’ve got, because nothing short of a miracle can bring me up again. Still, there’s the money subscribed by those poor wretches for this new company yet in hand, and that will stave off the immediate present. There’s just a chance that Onslow’s _coup_ may be realized on in time, and, if that comes off, I’m all right again. And if it doesn’t, there’s the estançia on the Rio Paraguay always ready. Yes, George, old chap, that it is. Snug and warm, beyond worries, safe from extradition. I’ll risk it.” The wire-haired terrier was rubbing against his leg. He lifted the dog on to the cushion of an easy chair, and went to his safe. He took from that a bundle of papers, and spread them on his writing-table.