At present he was perfectly happy. He had made a lot of money, he had a pretty wife for whom he cared nothing, a charming daughter for whom he cared a great deal, and was now going to show the Old World what the New World could do in the way of making a splash. It was a very enviable frame of mind to be in, and one quite beyond the reach of an honest man, who would have been disturbed at the memory of how he had made his money. But Silas only thought how pleasant it was he had made so much money, for the making of which he had to thank no one--not even God, who, in His inexplicable mercy permitted this gilded worm to reap the golden reward of a life of legitimate legalised rascality. Mr. Oates, therefore, was happy, and thought no one could upset that happiness in any way; but he found out his mistake when the waiter brought in a card inscribed, "Mrs. Belswin." "Well, sir," drawled Silas, looking doubtfully at the card, "this lady wants to look me up?" "Yes, sir." "Mrs. Belswin!" soliloquised the American in deep thought. "I can't fix her nohow. Ask the lady to step this way." "Yes, sir." The alert, active waiter disappeared, and Mr. Oates pondered. He did not know the name; he had only arrived in England the previous day, and was unacquainted with any one. What then did this strange lady want with him? Luckily, Mrs. Hatty K. Oates had gone out shopping with her daughter, else the situation might have been awkward for Silas, whose domestic hearthstone was not quite free from connubial rows caused by jealousy. His wife, however, was away, and would not be home for the next few hours, so Mr. Oates, feeling rather curious as to the business of his fair visitor, was by no means sorry that he had a chance of passing his afternoon in feminine society. His visitor entered the room heralded by the waiter; then the latter retired, closing the door carefully after him, leaving the pair alone. The lady was dressed in black, and wore a heavy crape veil, which suggested mourning to the astute Silas; and after he had gathered as much as he was able from a keen glance at this draped veiled figure, he politely placed a chair for her. "You wish to see me, madam?" he asked, resuming his own seat. "I do, for a few minutes. I am an old friend of yours." Mrs. Belswin's voice was muffled by the veil, and moreover Silas had not heard it for nearly twenty years, so he did not recognise his visitor in the least, and was considerably puzzled by the concluding part of her speech. "An old friend!" he said doubtfully, smoothing his chin. "From the States?" "Yes; down 'Frisco way." "Oh!" Mr. Oates started. He had many acquaintances down 'Frisco way, but they could hardly be called friends, as they very much disapproved of his method of doing business. "I've got an eye for faces," said Silas, in a jaunty manner, "so if you put up that veil I've no doubt I can fix you." "I'm afraid I shall startle you."