“That’s what he said himself,” said Thomas. “He said to Alford: ‘Friends? Well, I haven’t got fifty thousand pounds’ worth’--those were his very words. He said, ‘I’ll go to Dartmoor, and that doesn’t worry me. What worries me is Leslie.’” “Did you hear when the transfer was to be completed--I mean, when the stocks were to be handed over to the other lawyers?” “In a week,” said Thomas. “Mr. Alford said, ‘I can hold it up for a week but I can’t keep it any longer. And once those papers are in the other bloke’s hands, your name is mud.’” Fifty thousand pounds! Gilder paced up and down the narrow room, his hands behind him. “You say that the engagement with his lordship is broken off?” “He didn’t say so,” said the man, “but that’s how I took it. He said ‘Was Harry very annoyed?’ That’s his lordship. And Alford said ‘Yes, and he’s going to change his lawyers.’ And he said, ‘What about Leslie’s fortune?’----” “Call her Miss Gwyn, will you?” interrupted Gilder roughly. “He didn’t say Miss Gwyn, he said ‘Leslie.’ But to oblige you I’ll say Miss Gwyn,” said Thomas. “He said, ‘What about Miss Gwyn’s fortune? Is that gone?’ And Gwyn said, ‘Yes, every penny.’” This was no news to Gilder--Arthur had told him as much. “And here, Mr. Gilder--the Black Abbot was around last night. I’ve got an idea about him! His lordship’s scared to death of the Black Abbot. Did you know that?” “Don’t talk to me about the Black Abbot!” snapped the man. He wanted to work this thing out, and the chatter of his guest disturbed him. “You keep inside and out of sight. I think you’d better go to London to-night. You’ve got money?” “I’ve got a bit of money. I was a fool! There’s an old-fashioned diary in that library that his lordship would give a couple of thousand pounds to get back, and I had it in my hand! That is the thing I ought to have pinched.” “And if it was found on you, you’d have been in prison. As it was, you had taken money and you got away with it.” This point of view had not struck the ex-convict before. “That’s true,” he agreed. “Lord! what a headpiece you’ve got, Mr. Gilder! If I had your brains----” But Mr. Gilder was not in a mood for flattery. “I’ve got an idea,” Thomas went on, unconscious of the distraction he was causing. “Let me go up to London to-night and come down to-morrow.” But Gilder did not hear him. Fifty thousand pounds! And for that price he could buy--Leslie Gwyn! His pulse quickened at the thought. There were no “ifs” or “buts.” She would gladly make that sacrifice for her brother’s sake. This time he had them all in the hollow of his hand: Leslie, Arthur Gwyn, and last, but not least in dislike, Dick Alford.