"I'll not be in a week's time," retorted Brent. "I'll be known to every householder in that ward! But--this _locus standi_? If I bought real estate in the town, I'd be a townsman, wouldn't I? A burgess, I reckon. And then--why legally I'd be as much a Hathelsborough man as, say, Simon Crood?" Tansley took his hands out of his pockets and began to search amongst his papers. "Well, you're a go-ahead chap, Brent!" he said. "Evidently not the sort to let grass grow under your feet. And if you want to buy a bit of nice property I've the very goods for you. There's a client of mine, John Chillingham, a retired tradesman, who wants to sell his house--he's desirous of quitting this part of the country and going to live on the South Coast. It's a delightful bit of property, just at the back of the Castle, and it's therefore in the Castle Ward. Acacia Lodge, it's called--nice, roomy, old-fashioned house, in splendid condition, modernized, set in a beautiful old garden, with a magnificent cedar tree on the lawn, and a fine view from its front windows. And, for a quick sale, cheap." "What's the figure?" asked Brent. "Two thousand guineas," answered Tansley. Brent reached for his hat. "Let's go and look at it," he said. Within a few hours Brent had settled his purchase of Acacia Lodge from the retired tradesman and Tansley was busy with the legal necessities of the conveyance. That done, and in his new character of townsman and property owner, Brent sought out Peppermore, and into that worthy's itching and astonished ears poured out a confession which the editor of the _Monitor_ was to keep secret until next day; after which, retiring to his sitting-room at the _Chancellor_, he took up pen and paper, and proceeded to write a document which occasioned him more thought than he usually gave to his literary productions. It was not a lengthy document, but it had been rewritten and interlineated and corrected several times before Brent carried it to the _Monitor_ office and the printing-press. Peppermore, reading it over, grinned with malicious satisfaction. "That'll make 'em open their mouths and their eyes to-morrow morning, Mr. Brent!" he exclaimed. "We'll have it posted all over the town by ten o'clock, sir. And all that the _Monitor_--powerful organ, Mr. Brent, very powerful organ!--can do on your behalf and in your interest shall be done, sir, it shall be done--_con amore_, as I believe they say in Italy." "Thank 'ee!" said Brent. "You're the right stuff." "Don't mention it, sir," replied Peppermore. "Only too pleased. Egad! I wish I could see Mr. Alderman Crood's face when he reads this poster!"