“The amount?” said Cruikshank. “Well, really--let me see--I don't quite remember, but I'll find out in a moment.” With these words he drew forth his pocket-book and fumbled among the papers. At length he produced one, and tried hard to look as if he had not known all along perfectly well what that amount was. “Well, really--yes, this is it,” he remarked, as he looked at a piece of paper. “The amount, did you say? The amount is just two hundred pounds. It's not much for you, as you are now situated, I should suppose.” “Is that the note?” asked Dudleigh, who was anxious to get rid of this visitor, and suspected all along that he might have a deeper purpose than the mere collection of a debt. “That is the note,” said Cruikshank. “I will pay it now,” said Dudleigh. He left the room for a short time, and during his absence Cruikshank amused himself with staring at the portrait of “Captain Dudleigh,” which hung in a conspicuous position before his eyes. He was not kept long waiting, for Dudleigh soon returned, and handed him the money. Cruikshank took it with immense satisfaction, and handed the note over in return, which Dudleigh carefully transferred to his own pocket-book, where he kept many other such papers. Cruikshank now bade him a very effusive adieu. Dudleigh stood at the window watching the retreating figure of his visitor. “I wonder how long this sort of thing can go on?” he murmured. “I don't like this acting on the defensive. I'll have to make the attack myself soon.” * * * * * CHAPTER XLIX. EDITH'S NEW FRIEND. Every day Edith and Dudleigh saw more and more of one another. Now that the crust of reserve was broken through, and something like intimacy had been reached, the sick man's apartment was the most natural place for each to seek. It came at last that the mornings and afternoons were no longer allotted to each exclusively, but while one watched, the other would often be present. In the evenings especially the two were together there. The condition in which Dalton was demanded quiet, yet needed but little direct attention. It was only necessary that some one should be in the room with him. He lay, as has been said, in a state of stupor, and knew nothing of what was going on. It was only necessary for those who might be with him to give him, from time to time, the medicines that had been prescribed by the physicians, or the nourishment which nature demanded. Apart from this there was little now to be done.