"Frank," the lady said, breaking the silence, "wasn't it the Samoset and Brookfield stock that Montfield people lost so heavily on?" "Yes," he answered, dropping upon the shingle. "Uncle Tom has a small fortune in the bonds, if they were worth any thing. Half the people in town got bitten on it." "Then I suppose the bonds could be bought for a song." "No doubt. Why? Are you going into railroad speculation?" "I may," she said thoughtfully, looking out over the sea, and letting the quiet of the afternoon envelop them a moment. "If"--She watched a white sail disappear over the horizon's rim, before she completed her sentence. "If I only had a hold over uncle Jacob, I'd make my fortune; but I haven't." "How?" Breck asked. "Never mind, I haven't, so _n'importe_. If there's an opening, I'll tell you. What was it you had to tell me, by the way?" "I want help," he answered; "but I don't see how you can help me. You have had some clever ideas, though, before now." "Thanks!" she returned, turning the rings upon her white fingers. "Say on." "It is about that Smithers woman." "Who is she?" "Nonsense! Don't bother to pretend you don't know, Flora. You can't expect me to be honest, unless you are." "Well," Miss Sturtevant smiled, "let us assume that I do know who the Smithers woman is. An old friend of your father, if I remember correctly." "Bother!" he said impatiently. "Why do you tease so to-day? Do you want me to relate all the details of her disreputable relations with my father?" "Oh, no! Nothing disreputable," Flora exclaimed with a deprecatory gesture of her small hands. "But what about her now?" "You've heard how madly fond of her old Mullen became in his last days?" "Yes: it was as romantic as it was improper." "Mullen put into her hands papers which related to my father's affairs, and I want them." "It is strange how that woman held both your father and Mr. Mullen," Miss Sturtevant said reflectively. "I should like to see her." She seemed to become more and more indifferent as the conversation proceeded; while, in reality, reasons of which Breck could know nothing, made her intensely interested. "She is at Samoset," Frank said. "You may see her any day." "And she has these papers?" Flora asked. "No, she has not." "Who has?" "Will you help me get them?" "If I can, of course I will." "I'll make it worth your while," he said, taking out his tablets. He leaned towards her, and wrote a name before her eyes, as if he feared to speak what some unseen listener might overhear. Then, in answer to her puzzled look, he added an explanatory word or two. * * * * *