Mrs. Anson shook her head. She was on the verge of tears, which Stranleigh saw and dreaded. So he said hurriedly: "You will select me what you think she should have at once, and I will take the box or parcel to Altonville in my car." "When at last her father saw that everything we possessed must be sold," rejoined Mrs. Anson, "he packed up in trunks what belonged to Gertrude, and as we could not learn where to send them, Mr. Asa Perkins, a friend of ours, who lives in Boston, lent us a room in which to store the things, and they are there now." "How odd!" exclaimed Stranleigh. "I met Mr. Perkins just before he left his summer residence, and took the place furnished, acting for the present tenant. It is much too large for him, and some of the rooms are locked. Do you happen to have the key?" "No; it is in the possession of the housekeeper. She is there still, is she not?" "Yes; I took the house as it stood, servants and all." "I'll write a note to the housekeeper, then. What name shall I say?" "Please write it in the name of Mr. Challis. He's outside now, in my car." "May I bring him in?" she asked, eagerly. "Certainly," said Stranleigh, with a smile. "It's your house, you know." "Not for long," she sighed. "Ah,----" drawled Stranleigh, "Mr. Challis and I propose that this sale shall not take place. If I may have a short conversation with your husband, I think we shall come to terms." An expression of anxiety overspread her face. "Perhaps I had better not ask Jim to come in," she hesitated. "Your husband does not know him, and I would rather you did not tell him who is with me. Just say that Henry Johnson and a friend wish to negotiate about the factory." Stanmore Anson proved to be a person of the hale old English yeoman type, as portrayed by illustrators, although his ancestors originally came from Sweden. His face was determined, his lips firm, and despite his defeats, the lurking sparkle of combat still animated his eyes. "Before we begin any conversation regarding a sale," he said, "you must answer this question, Mr. Johnson. Are you connected in any way, directly or indirectly, with the G.K.R. Trust?" "I am not connected with it, directly or indirectly." "You state that on your honour as a man?" "No; I simply state it." "You wouldn't swear it?" "Not unless compelled by force of law." "Then I have nothing further to say to you, sir." The old man seemed about to withdraw, then hesitated, remembering he was in his own house. Stranleigh sat there unperturbed. "You have nothing further to say, Mr. Anson, because two thoughts are sure to occur to you. First, a man whose word you would not accept cannot be believed, either on his honour or his oath. Second, the Trust doesn't need to send an emissary to you; it has only to wait until November, and acquire your factory at its own figure. No one except myself would bid against the Trust." "That's quite true," agreed Anson. "I beg your pardon. What have you to propose?"