Mr. Chewkle expressed his happiness at having the opportunity of obliging Mr. Grahame in any fashion, and promptly dived into a small room overlooking the park, and connected with the library. He heard Mr. Grahame lock the door, securing him in his little retreat, but he carefully placed his ear to the keyhole, in anticipation of picking up something worth hearing and retaining--if he was paid handsomely for secrecy. Mr. Grahame had scarcely resumed his seat when Nathan Gomer entered the library. He returned the bow, graciously performed, with which he was greeted, and placing his hat and gloves upon a chair, seated himself upon another, and commenced speaking in rather a louder key than Mr. Grahame thought quite desirable. “Mr. Grahame,” he began, “we have not met before, but you are not unacquainted with my name.” “Oh, dear no--of course it is most familiar to me,” observed Mr. Grahame. “Or my money?” continued Nathan Gomer. “Assuredly not,” returned Mr. Grahame, a little confused. “You have made me fresh proposals?” “For a short term--I hope you understand that!” “Quite so. But I want to know upon what foundation you base your expectation of returning the sums demanded?” “The whole, sole, entire possession of an enormous property; vast estates, yielding a splendid income, and a very considerable amount in cash, the accumulation of years.” “It is in Chancery!” “It is.” “A link is wanting, I think, to perfect your claim?” “Ah! my dear sir, a mere nothing--such as it is, we are prepared to supply it.” “Ah! You are, eh?” “Oh, certainly.” “You are quite clear about that?” “Nothing was ever more certain.” “Hem! That is satisfactory, to be sure; but stay, is there not another person who has something to do with it?--one--one--dear me, what is his name!--one----Pshaw! how absurd in me to forget it.” “I know of no person, save myself, Mr. Gomer, who has the shadow of a claim to any portion of it.” “Indeed!” “Not a soul!” “Then I have been misinformed. I was given to understand that a person named--named--I do not often forget names--cannot you help me, Mr. Grahame, to the name of the individual who claims the property of which you have spoken, as well as you?” “Who?--I, sir-no.” This was said with an air of offended dignity, and the manner of a man who, having made a positive assertion, sees that it is doubted, and wishes it to be thought that the incredulity is unjust. The glittering eye of Nathan Gomer seemed to play over every feature of Mr. Grahame’s countenance. Suddenly he said, with startling abruptness-- “Ah! I remember it. I have it. Wilton is the name. Wilton, who follows the occupation of a gold-plate chaser. Has he not a claim--also wanting a link--to this property?” It might have been fancy, but the sound of a whistle appeared to issue from the vicinity of a key-hole in the door of the ante-chamber overlooking the park.