‘You need not trouble yourself about Gertie Heckett, my dear fellow,’ answered Marston, lighting a cigar. ‘I shall look after her. Her story’s a very sad one, and I like to do good when I can. I’m going in for being a friend to the orphan, and I shall begin with Gertie Heckett.’ ‘You don’t mean it?’ ‘I do, my boy, seriously. If you want a field for your benevolence you must look elsewhere. I object to your adopting Gertie—or Ruth. You’ll excuse me now, won’t you? I’m going out of town by the afternoon train.’ Gurth Egerton took the hint and his departure, more than ever unable to make his old comrade out. Marston went down, by the afternoon train to Dover, where he had an important appointment; and on the journey he began to think about Gurth. ‘He’s sweet on Ruth, evidently,’ he thought. ‘If this job comes off right, I must go in and win at once. With a wife like that it will be my own fault if I don’t go ahead. Fancy Gurth trying to cut me out there! How strangely things come about!’ From Gurth and Ruth, Marston’s thoughts wandered to Gertie. He was morally certain she was Ralph’s child. But of course Gurth was not responsible for that, and there was no proof. Why was Garth so upset by what he said? He had at any rate found out a weak point in his rival’s armour, and he was not the man to lose sight of the fact if it ever came to fighting. CHAPTER XXXVII. SMITH AND CO. START IN A NEW LINE. Mr. Edward Marston was taking the air at Dover. He had left town for the benefit of his health. One morning, walking upon the pier, whom should he meet but Mr. Brooks, formerly the manager of Smith and Co. ‘Ah, how do you do?’ said Mr. Marston. ‘Staying here?’ ‘Yes, for a little while,’ answered Mr. Brooks. It was quite an accidental meeting, you see; but, having met, what more natural than that they should take a stroll together. They strolled down towards the harbour and hired a rowing boat. ‘Want a man?’ asked the boatman. ‘No, thanks,’ answered Mr. Marston. ‘I’ll row myself.’ Mr. Brooks sat in the stern of the boat. Mr. Marston took the sculls and rowed a little way out. The sea was calm, and when they were some little distance from the shore, and the small craft moving about, Marston ceased rowing, let the boat float, and commenced to converse with his companion. ‘The box was sent off yesterday,’ he said; ‘so that it will be at the parcels office this afternoon. You had better apply for it at once.’ ‘All right; let me thoroughly understand what I have to do.’ ‘It’s as simple as A B C,’ answered Marston. ‘Preene has bought for me five hundred pounds worth of bar gold and sent it down here by rail to be kept till called for. All bullion comes in special safes, and this must come that way. When you apply for the box it will be locked up in the safe and the clerk must get the key. Watch where he gets the key from.’ ‘Yes, that’s all easy enough. What else?’