… When I was taking tea into the library I heard his lordship say that he wanted the wedding to take place in October, but Miss Gwyn said she would like it after Christmas. His lordship said that he didn’t mind because he was so busy. Mr. Alford said he thought that the marriage settlement should be fixed by Sampson & Howard, who were the old Lord Chelford’s solicitors, but his lordship said that he thought the settlement had better be in Mr. Gwyn’s hands. I did not hear any more because Mr. Alford told me to get out. Miss Wenner, who used to be his lordship’s secretary, came down from London yesterday, but Mr. Alford has given orders that she is not to be admitted. His lordship did not see her.… Mr. Fabrian Gilder’s spy reported other minor matters which were less interesting. He read the letter again, put it in his pocket, and was busy at his desk for five minutes. He came back to find his employer leaning over his desk, his head between his hands, and laid a slip of paper before him. “What is this?” asked Gwyn, startled. “A six-months’ bill for seven thousand pounds. I’ve put an extra thousand in for luck,” said Gilder coolly. Gwyn read the document quickly. It was a bill, and required only his signature and that of Harry, Earl of Chelford, to make it convertible into solid cash. “I dare not do it--I simply dare not do it!” “Why tell him it’s a bill at all?” asked Gilder. “You can get him by himself, spin a yarn--you have a fertile imagination--but I suggest to you that you tell him you need his signature to release some of your sister’s property and once his name is on the back of the bill----” Arthur Gwyn looked up sharply. Was it a coincidence that this excuse should be suggested? There was nothing in the head clerk’s face to suggest otherwise. “But when it comes due?” he asked irresolutely, as he turned the document over and over in his hands. “In six months’ time he’ll be married, and if things aren’t better with you, he’ll either have to meet the bill or hush the matter up.” The eyes of the two men met. “You’re on the edge of ruin, my young friend,” said Gilder, “and I’m rather concerned. If you go down, my livelihood disappears.” How true this was, Arthur learnt one bitter day. “You make a deuced sight more out of it than I do,” he grumbled as he wrote the name of a bank across the face of the bill. “I spend less than you, and when I get money I know how to keep it.” “You might even raise the sum yourself,” said his employer, with a feeble attempt at jocularity. “I might,” said Gilder grimly, “but, as I said before, I know how to take care of my own, and lending money to you is not my notion of a good investment.” He had been out of the room only a few minutes when he came back, and closing the door carefully behind him: “Do you know a Miss Wenner?” he asked. Mr. Gwyn frowned. “Yes. What does she want?” “She says she must see you on an urgent personal matter. Is she one of your--friends?”