"But my friends," he said sharply. "Theirs is a foolish offer. They may change their minds. Guy, my boy, I know the world well. Let me give you a word of advice. When a good thing turns up, don't play with it. The men who decide quickly are the men who do things." I thrust my hand into my breast-pocket and drew out a roll of papers. "Supposing I have already decided," I said. His eyes gleamed with excitement. He almost snatched at the papers, but I held them out of his reach. Then with a sharp little cry the woman stood suddenly between us. There was a look almost of horror on her pale strained face, as she held out her hand as though to push me away. "Guy, are you mad?" she cried. The veins stood out upon my father's forehead. He regarded her with mingled anger and surprise. "What do you mean, Maud?" he exclaimed. "How dare you interfere? Guy, give me the papers." "He shall not!" she exclaimed fiercely. "Guy, have you lost your senses? Do you want to ruin your whole life?" "Do you mean," I asked incredulously, "that you do not wish me to join you?" "Join us! For Heaven's sake, no!" she answered fiercely. "Look at your father, an outcast all his life. Do you want to become like him? Do you want to turn the other way whenever you meet an Englishman, to skulk all your days in hiding, to be the scorn even of the men who employ you? Guy, I would sooner see you dead than part with those papers." "You damned fool!" my father muttered. "Take no notice of her, Guy. Five thousand pounds! I will see it paid to you, every penny of it. And not a soul will ever know!" My father stood over her, and there was a threat in his face. She did not shrink from him for a moment. She laid her white hands upon my shoulders, and she looked earnestly into my eyes. "Guy," she said, "even now I do not believe that you meant to be so very, very foolish. But I want you to go away at once. You should never have come. It is not good for you to come near either of us." I rose obediently. I think that if I had not been there my father would have struck her. He was almost speechless with fury. He poured himself out another glass of brandy with shaking fingers. "Thank you," I said to her, simply. "I do not think that these papers are worth five thousand. Let me tell you what I came here for. I am a messenger from the Duke of Rowchester." My father dropped his glass. Mrs. Smith-Lessing looked bewildered. "The Duke," I said to her, "desires to see you. Can you come to Cavendish Square this afternoon?" "The Duke?" she murmured. "He wishes to see you," I repeated. "Shall I tell him that you will call at four o'clock this afternoon, or will you go back with me?" "Do you mean this?" she asked in a low tone. "I do not understand it. I have never seen the Duke in my life." "I understand no more than you do," I assured her. "That is the message." "I do not promise to come," she said. "I must think it over." My father pushed her roughly away.