"Which it ain't my place, sir, to answer the front-door-bell at all. Poor Bob!" She ended with a sob, and put her apron to her eyes. "I say," said Poynter, giving her apron a twitch and dragging it down, "look here." "Well, I'm sure!" began Elizabeth indignantly. "Look here; have your wages been paid?" "Lor', no, sir, not for ever so long," said Elizabeth, with an air of surprise at the absurdity of the question. "Then look here, Elizabeth: you know what I come here for, don't you?" "I think I can guess, sir," said the woman, suddenly becoming interested and smiling weakly. "Of course you can. You're a sharp 'un, that's what you are. So look here: the day I'm married I'll pay your wages, and I'll give you a fi'-pun note to buy yourself a new bonnet and gown. Now go up and say I'm waiting to see Miss Richmond on particular business." Elizabeth's eyes opened widely, and there was a peculiar look of satisfaction therein, as she closed the door, led the way into the dining-room, and then, after giving the visitor a nod of intelligence, she left him to go up-stairs and deliver her message. "Pah! how the place smells!" muttered Poynter. "Any one would think that chap was here now. A nasty, damp, fusty hole!" He listened eagerly, but the step he hoped to hear was not coming, and he began to walk up and down, twisting his silk handkerchief round, and polishing his glossy hat the while. "I'm screwed up now," he muttered. "I'm not afraid of her. She can't say no, but if she does, she's got to learn something. Perhaps she don't know what putting on the screw means, and I shall have to teach her. All for her good. Hah!" There was no mistake now; a step was descending the stairs, and James Poynter once more looked round for a mirror for a final glance; but there was nothing of the kind on the blank walls, and he had to face Richmond unfurbished. She entered the room, looking quite calm, but very pale, and the blue rings about her eyes told of her sufferings and anxiety. There was a slight heightening of her colour, though, for a few moments, as the visitor advanced with extended hand, in which she placed hers for a few moments before motioning him to a seat. "How's the doctor?" he said huskily, and then coughed to clear his throat. "Very, very ill, Mr Poynter," was the reply. "I am sorry, but I must ask you to please see Doctor Maurice, who has promised to attend any of my father's patients if they called." "Oh! bother Doctor Maurice! I'm better now. Quite well." James Poynter had partaken of the greater portion of a bottle of champagne before he came, so as to screw himself up, as he termed it; and there was plenty of decision of a rude and vulgar type as he spoke. "I beg your pardon; I thought you had come to consult my father. You have come to see how he was?" "No, I didn't? You know what I've come for." Richmond did know, and perfectly well; but as she scorned to make use of farther subterfuge, she remained silent.