"He is not yet rich, remember," put in Spruce, grinning. "Mind your own business," said Hench vehemently. "No"--Madame's tone was peculiar--"and perhaps he never may be rich. But if Zara likes you, I am not sure but what I will not allow you to marry her. No, I have not yet quite made up my mind. Give me time to think"--she moved ponderously towards the door. "Owain of Rhaiadr! Ah, if you were only able to call yourself that. Well, who knows," and with a mysterious nod she disappeared. "Queer thing, coming across an old flame of your father's in Queer Street," said the Nut affably. "What do you think?" "I think," said Hench in anything but an amiable tone, "that you had better mind your own damned business." Spruce was by no means offended. "As you will, although you should be sensible enough to use my brains to help you with your family mystery." "There is no mystery. How often am I to repeat that?" And Hench walked away fuming with rage at the little man's persistence. CHAPTER IV THE ADVERTISEMENT Hench felt annoyed with himself for talking so freely about his private affairs in the presence of Spruce, yet he could not see how he could have done otherwise. Madame Alpenny, disregarding the obvious fact that his proposal for her daughter's hand was not for public discussion, had appealed to the little man for information concerning the suitor, and in this way the Nut had been drawn into the conversation. If was not that Hench affected reticence, as he was a singularly frank man; or that there was anything to conceal in his past life, since that was free from punishable misdeeds. But it irritated him that Spruce should meddle, as the man appeared to have a finger in everybody's pie, and Hench saw no reason why he should have anything to do with this particular pastry. For this reason he gave his old schoolfellow the cold shoulder.