“He has done nothing of the sort,” Mrs. Farnaby rejoined. “Has he got your money?” Mrs. Sowler persisted. “Tell me the truth--and I’ll do the same by you. He has cheated me. If you’re cheated too, it’s your own interest to lose no time in finding him. The police may catch him yet. _Has_ he got your money?” The woman was in earnest--in terrible earnest--her eyes and her voice both bore witness to it. She stood there, the living impersonation of those doubts and fears which Mrs. Farnaby had confessed, in writing to Amelius. Her position, at that moment, was essentially a position of command. Mrs. Farnaby felt it in spite of herself. She acknowledged that Jervy had got the money. “Did you sent it to him, or give it to him?” Mrs. Sowler asked. “I gave it to him.” “When?” “Yesterday evening.” Mrs. Sowler clenched her fists, and shook them in impotent rage. “He’s the biggest scoundrel living,” she exclaimed furiously; “and you’re the biggest fool! Put on your bonnet and come to the police. If you get your money back again before he’s spent it all, don’t forget it was through me.” The audacity of the woman’s language roused Mrs. Farnaby. She pointed to the door. “You are an insolent creature,” she said; “I have nothing more to do with you.” “You have nothing more to do with me?” Mrs. Sowler repeated. “You and the young man have settled it all between you, I suppose.” She laughed scornfully. “I dare say now you expect to see him again?” Mrs. Farnaby was irritated into answering this. “I expect to see him this morning,” she said, “at ten o’clock.” “And the lost young lady with him?” “Say nothing about my lost daughter! I won’t even hear you speak of her.” Mrs. Sowler sat down. “Look at your watch,” she said. “It must be nigh on ten o’clock by this time. You’ll make a disturbance in the house if you try to turn me out. I mean to wait here till ten o’clock.” On the point of answering angrily, Mrs. Farnaby restrained herself. “You are trying to force a quarrel on me,” she said; “you shan’t spoil the happiest morning of my life. Wait here by yourself.” She opened the door that led into her bedchamber, and shut herself in. Perfectly impenetrable to any repulse that could be offered to her, Mrs. Sowler looked at the closed door with a sardonic smile, and waited. The clock in the hall struck ten. Mrs. Farnaby returned again to the sitting-room, walked straight to the window, and looked out. “Any sign of him?” said Mrs. Sowler. There were no signs of him. Mrs. Farnaby drew a chair to the window, and sat down. Her hands turned icy cold. She still looked out into the street.