"I am," answered the surgeon; "but before I do so I must have some understanding as to the price of my services. If the cat who pulled the chestnuts out of the fire for the benefit of the monkey had made an agreement beforehand as to how much of the plunder he was to receive for his pains, the name of the animal would not have become a bye-word with posterity. When I have worked to win your fortune, I must have my reward, my dear Reginald." "Do you suppose I should be ungrateful?" "Of course not. But, you see, I don't ask for your gratitude--I want a good round sum down on the nail--hard cash. Your uncle's fortune, if you get two-thirds of it, will be worth thirty thousand a year; and for such a fortune you can very well afford to pay me twenty thousand in ready money within two years of your accession to the inheritance." "Twenty thousand!" "Yes; if you think the sum too much, we will say no more about it. The business is a very difficult one, and I scarcely care to engage in it." "My dear Victor, you bewilder me. I cannot bring myself to believe that you can bring about my restoration to my old place in my uncle's will; but if you do, the twenty thousand shall be yours." "Good!" answered the surgeon, in his coolest and most business-like manner; "I must have it in black and white. You will give me two promissory notes; one for ten thousand, to fall due a year hence--the other for the same sum, to fall due in two years." "But if I do not get the fortune--and I am not likely to get it within that time; my uncle's life is a good one, and--" "Never mind your uncle's life. I will give you an undertaking to cancel those notes of hand if you have not succeeded to the Raynham estates. And now here are stamps. You may as well fill in the body of the notes, and sign them at once, and so close the transaction." "You are prepared with the stamps?" "Yes; I am a man of business, although a man of science." "Victor," said Reginald Eversleigh; "you sometimes make me shudder, There is something almost diabolical about you." "But if I drag yonder fair lady down from her high, estate, you would scarcely care if I were the foul fiend in person," said Carrington, looking at his friend with a sardonic smile. "Oh, I think I know you, Reginald Eversleigh, better than you know me." * * * * * Amongst the guests who had arrived at the castle within the last few days was Lydia Graham, the young lady of whom the baronet had spoken to his nephew. She was a fascinating girl, with a bold, handsome face, brilliant gray eyes, an aquiline nose, and a profusion of dark, waving hair. She was a woman who knew how to make the most of every charm with which nature had endowed her. She dressed superbly; but with an extravagance far beyond the limits of her means. She was, for this reason, deeply in debt, and her only chance of extrication from her difficulties lay in a brilliant marriage.