Arthur shook his head. “N-no--I have met her. She was Chelford’s secretary. Can’t you find out what she wants?” “I’ve tried, but it is a matter personal to you. Do you want to see her?--I can easily stall her.” Arthur thought for a while. She might have something important to tell him. “Ask her to come in,” he said. A few minutes later Mary Wenner came into the room and greeted him with a familiar nod. “Well, my dear, this is an unexpected pleasure. You are getting prettier every time I see you.” She accepted the flattery as her right, and sat on the edge of his desk. “I’ve been down to Fossaway, Arthur,” she said. “Silly girl,” he smiled. “But I thought that affair was all over and done with. You’ve got to be good, Mary. Chelford is going to marry my sister.” “Isn’t that grand! And I’m not surprised. I saw you working when I was at Fossaway.” She slipped down from the desk and dropped both her hands on his shoulders. “Arthur, I’m tired of stenogging! And I want like sin to get back on that cold-blooded hound Dick Alford. I’ve been fired out once for proposing to a man--I’m going to take a second chance. We’ve been good pals, Arthur.” He murmured something in his alarm. “Listen--don’t turn down a good thing. You can marry me and I’ll bring you a bigger dowry than your sister will take to Harry Chelford.” He stared at her. “You?… Dowry?” he stammered. She nodded slowly. “Marry me, and I’ll take you to the place where you can lay your hands on fifteen tons of Spanish gold--the Chelford treasure! Two and a half million pounds!” VIII Fifteen tons of gold! Two and a half millions sterling! Arthur Gwyn stared at the girl incredulously. But she was making no idle statement, and that she at least believed what she said was clear from her flushed face and shining eyes. For a second he was speechless. “Fifteen tons of gold?” He frowned and smiled at the same time. “You’re mad, Mary!” “Mad, am I?” She nodded vigorously. “Oh, indeed, I daresay you think so, but you won’t be thinking that very long! I have found the Chelford treasure, I tell you.” He sat down heavily in his chair, his startled eyes still fixed upon hers. He was for the moment inarticulate. “Rubbish!” he managed to say at last. “There is no Chelford treasure! Living so long in the same house with Harry Chelford has made you as mad as he!” She walked slowly to the desk, and, with her palms on the ledge, leant down over him.