"It would be a serious step in his present state. Not that I see what you and your lawyer could do without Fulvia's consent—short of going to law." "Stuff and nonsense! Going to law! I merely wish to know how things stand. There's nobody else to see that the girl has her rights." "Except—!" "Eh! What? Yourself! Yes, yes, to be sure—if you'll assume the responsibility. But I'll not have the question shirked." "It shall not be." "Well, if you say so!" in a mollified tone. "I've no faith in your father's business capacities; but yours are different. Yes; I trust you," pointedly. "Who are your father's lawyers just now? He has been given to changing." "Brown & Berridge, I believe. He has not much to do with lawyers." "Dare say not! That's the worst of leaving a man irresponsible. Nobody knows anything about it. Brown and Berridge! Where?" "London." "Humph!" "Will you leave the responsibility of Fulvia's money to me?" asked Nigel, in a resolute, abrupt tone. "Yes; when you are settled to be her husband!" Nigel's colour rose. "That is not likely," he said. "But, I say—you like the girl?" "Yes." "What more is wanted?" Nigel's laugh had no ring in it. "A good deal more," he said. "One may 'like' a great many people." "You know the sort of liking I mean. And you know that you don't like 'a great many people' as you like Fulvia." "Perhaps not." "Then what on earth keeps you back? It's your father's wish—it's my wish—and you care for her! What more do you want, eh? That Fulvia should 'like' you, I suppose! No fear about her! Daisy says—" This was too much, and Nigel started up. "Come, come; don't be excited. Lover-like, but unnecessary," laughed Mr. Carden-Cox. "I'll not betray confidences. Can't you see for yourself? Sit down." Nigel remained standing. "When I speak of undertaking responsibility for Fulvia, I mean it simply as her brother. Nothing else is possible." "For you, or for her? Which? Ha, ha! Well, so be it just now. I'll leave the matter in your hands, for—let us say, for a few weeks. Concession enough, that! Why, bless me, if Browning doesn't hand over the money to the girl this week, he's defrauding her—nothing short of defrauding her. And if he can't bear to have the subject mentioned, how is anything to be arranged, eh? Talk of health! It is a matter of conscience, not of health. Well, well, sit down, my dear fellow, and I'll not say anything more about it just now." Nigel obeyed. And Mr. Carden-Cox, to escape from the engrossing subject of Fulvia's money, turned to the scarcely less engrossing subject of "the four N.B.'s." He was always able to talk of them for any length of time. He could not get over the mystery, could not forgive himself the blunder, could not rest without solving the riddle of the lost half-sheet. Postscripts haunted him night and day. He was like an ardent devotee of conundrums—unable to enjoy life till he should find a clue to the puzzle.