“And what are your thoughts? Hang it, man, speak out. You talked just now of being ready to serve me. You can serve me in this matter, if you choose.” Mr. Wilderson shrugged his shoulders, and again pulled his whiskers in a reflective mood. “Dear boy,” he said presently, “come out into the court.” Evidently in Mr. Wilderson’s mind the court was as some primeval forest, wherein no listener’s ears could penetrate. Out in the court the stockbroker hitched his arm through that of Harcourt Lowther, and began to discourse upon Lionel Hillary, or Hillary and Co., as Mr. Wilderson preferred to designate him. He said a great deal in a low, confidential voice, and Harcourt Lowther’s lower jaw fell a little as he listened. One thing was made clear to the ex-officer, and that was, that Lionel Hillary’s affairs had been hinted at by the knowing ones as rather shaky; that there had been even whispers of that awful word, “suspension:” but that somehow or other Hillary and Co. had contrived to right themselves; and that it was supposed by the aforesaid knowing ones that the Australian merchant had found a wealthy backer. “There’s fresh blood been let into his business, you may rely upon it, dear boy,” said Mr. Wilderson. “I know that he was in Queer Street last Christmas. Bills referred to drawer, and that sort of thing. The bankers were beginning to get shy of his paper. I held a little of it myself, and a deuced deal of trouble I had to plant it.” This and much more to hear did Harcourt Lowther seriously incline. Then he asked Mr. Wilderson to dine with him at a certain noted establishment in the Strand, and left the court very grave of aspect and slow of step. “So my lovely Maude is not a millionaire’s daughter after all,” he thought. “And my friend Hillary has been dipping his capacious paw into Francis Tredethlyn’s purse. I ought to have known that half these reputed rich men are as rotten as a pear. So this is the explanation of my simple Maude’s heroics. Poor little girl, _she_ has been the pretty fly with which that accomplished angler, Mr. Hillary, has whipped the stream for his big gudgeon! Any little card I may have arranged to play for myself has been very neatly taken out of my hands; and I find my friend provided with a needy father-in-law and an extravagant wife. However, I dare say there’s some small part left for me to play: and perhaps the best thing I can do is to take it quietly.” Harcourt Lowther’s servant!