“Why do you want me at all?” she protested, half whimpering. “You might have brought it by yourself.” “What!” he said, “and had Dr Blague questioning my sanity? Do fathers generally take their new-born babies for an airing in cabs? You are to witness, Ellen, if the necessity should ever arise--which, however, there is not the least probability of its doing--that I returned it to you sound as I had taken it.” “Why should it arise? O, Mark, don’t mean me any evil!” He sighed, shrugging his shoulders. The crawling cab drew up with a jerk. “Now,” he said quickly, taking the girl’s burden from her, “stop here till I return with it. I shall be back before you can count a hundred.” III Mother Carey raised her bleary face with a start, and looked round. The owner of the name she had been apostrophising stood in the room beside her. She twisted an involuntary little shriek into a titter. “Well, I’m sure,” she said, “to take me like that, in a moment, and anything possible! Was the door ajar?” “Still ajar,” said Mark, with a smile--“and the trap still baited as of old, I suppose?” “Always the same quick gentleman,” she chuckled venomously. “What has my lovey got in his arms there?” “Something for _your_ discounting, old mother,” he said. “I’ll show you in a minute.” “_My_ discounting!” she echoed. Her lips tightened on the word. She looked at him evilly--searchingly. “What do you mean? You got my message?” “Yes; I got your message.” “And you’ve come to answer it?” “To answer it, yes.” “That’s as well for you. You know what I want?” “Do I?” “And what I mean to have, or show you up, my gentleman?” “Well, I can guess. I’m to be bled, I suppose?” “Ah!” she gave a snapping laugh. “You never spoke a truer word.” “Well,” he said, as cool as she was malevolent, “I’m here to _be_ bled, but on hard and fast conditions. Understand that, you old Jezebel, or understand nothing.” She made as if to claw him, but mumbled away her rage. Better than many worthier she could see into his terrific places. “I’ll be fair to fair,” she said, cowed and scowling. “You’re married?” “Yes,” “A fine match?” “Yes.” “It would go hard with your honeymooning if I spoke out?” “Harder with you, I think.” “Ah, I’m salted, my man!” “You’d need to be. Is _she_ here?” “_Isn’t_ she!” “Where?” “In her bed.” “Ill?” “A touch of the fever. She’ll get over it.” “Very well,” he said. “Now, attend. Look at this.” She followed the motion of his hand, as, very gently, it lifted a corner of the wrappers on his arm. “A living baby!” “It looks like one.” She discussed him sombrely a minute, then spoke in a shrewd whisper: “You’ve got some dark game on here, my gentleman.” He dropped the shawl again. “A secret--and a proposal, old mother,” he said. “How much, or, rather, how little will you take for helping me to keep it?” “Do you want me to commit murder? I’m an honest woman.” “I know; that’s why I can depend on you.” She fawned with her hands.