"By accident. You gave us the slip so cleverly that time you took it into your precious head to cut and run, that, hunt where we would, we were never able to find you. I gave it up for a bad job; and then things went agen me, and I got sent away. But I'm my own master again now; and I mean to make good use of my liberty, I can tell you, my lady. I little knew how you'd feathered your nest while I was on the other side of the water. I little thought how you would turn up at last, when I least expected to see you. You might have knocked me down with a feather yesterday, when that fine funeral came out of the park gates, and I saw your face at the window of one of the coaches. You must have been an uncommonly clever young woman, and an uncommonly sly one, to get a baronite for your husband, and to get a spooney old cove to leave you all his fortune, after behaving so precious bad to him. Did your husband know who you were when he married you?" "He found me starving in the street of a country town. He knew that I was friendless, homeless, penniless. That knowledge did not prevent him making me his wife." "Ah! but there was something more he didn't know. He didn't know that you were Black Milsom's daughter; you didn't tell him that, I'll lay a wager." "I did not tell him that which I know to be a lie," replied Honoria, calmly. "Oh, it's a lie, is it? You are not my daughter, I suppose?" "No, Thomas Milsom, I am not--I know and feel that I am not" "Humph!" muttered Black Milsom, savagely; "if you were not my daughter, how was it that you grew up to call me father?" "Because I was forced to do so. I remember being told to call you father. I remember being beaten because I refused to do so--beaten till I submitted from very fear of being beaten to death. Oh, it was a bright and happy childhood, was it not, Thomas Milsom? A childhood to look back to with love and regret. And now, finding that fortune has lifted me out of the gutter into which you flung me, you come to me to demand your share of my good fortune, I suppose?" "That's about it, my lady," answered Mr. Milsom, with supreme coolness. "I don't mind a few hard words, more or less--they break no bones; and, what's more, I'm used to 'em. What I want is money, ready money, down on the nail, and plenty of it. You may pelt me as hard as you like with fine speeches, as long as you cash up liberally; but cash I must have, by fair means or foul, and I want a pretty good sum to start with." "You want a large sum," said Honoria, quietly; "how much do you want?" "Well, I don't want to take a mean advantage of your generosity, so I'll be moderate. Say five thousand pounds--to begin with." "And you expect to get that from me?" "Of course I do." "Five thousand pounds?" "Five thousand pounds, ready money." Lady Eversleigh stopped suddenly, and looked the man full in the face.