"She'll lose that letter as sure as fate," grunted Uncle Luke. "Well, there's nothing in it to mind. Now I suppose I can have a little peace, and--who's this?" He leaned a little farther out of his window, so as to bring a curve of the cliff path well into view. "My beautiful nephew and that parasite. Going up to Leslie, I suppose-- to smoke. Waste and debauchery--smoking." He shut the window sharply, and settled himself down with his back to it, determined not to see his nephew pass; but five minutes later there was a sharp rapping at the door. "Uncle Luke! Uncle!" The old man made no reply. "Here, Uncle Luke. I know you're at home; the old woman said so." "Hang that old woman!" grumbled Uncle Luke; and in response to a fresh call he rose, and opened his door with a snatch. "Now, then, what is it? I'm just going to bed." "Bed at this time of the day?" cried Harry cheerfully. "Why you couldn't go to sleep if you did go." "Why not?" snapped the old man; "you can in the mornings--over the ledger." Harry winced, but he turned off the malicious remark with a laugh. "Uncle loves his joke, Pradelle," he said. "Come, uncle, I don't often visit you; ask us in." "No, you don't often visit me, Harry," said the old man, looking at him searchingly; "and when you do come it's because you want something." Harry winced again, for the old man's words cut deeply. "Oh, nonsense, uncle! Pradelle and I were having a stroll, and we thought we'd drop in here and smoke a cigar with you." "Very kind," said the old man, looking meaningly from one to the other. "Missed meeting the girls, or have they snubbed you and sent you about your business?" "Have a cigar, uncle?" said Harry, holding out his case. "I tell you we came on purpose to see you." "Humph!" said Uncle Luke, taking the handsome morocco cigar case, and turning it over and over with great interest. "How much did that cost?" "Don't remember now; fifteen shillings I think." "Ah," said Uncle Luke, pressing the snap and opening it. "One, two, three, four; how much do these cigars cost?" "Only fourpence, uncle; can't afford better ones." "And a cigar lasts--how long?" "Oh, I make one last three-quarters of an hour, because I smoke very slowly. Try one." "No, thankye; can't afford such luxuries, my boy," said the old man, shutting the case with a snap, and returning it. "That case and the cigars there cost nearly a pound. Your income must be rising fast." Harry and Pradelle exchanged glances. The reception did not promise well for a loan. "Cigar does you good sometimes." "Harry," said the old man, laughing and pointing at case. "What's the matter, uncle?" said Harry eagerly; "want one?" "No, no. Why didn't you have it put on there?" "What?" "Crest and motto, and your title--Comte des Vignes. You might lose it, and then people would know where to take it." "Don't chaff a fellow, uncle," said Harry, colouring. "Here, we may come and sit down, mayn't we?"