"Well, monster," said her ladyship playfully, "will that do?" "Admirably, my lady," said Barclay, taking a cash-box from a drawer, and counting out, with deft fingers, a number of notes. "Four fifty-five," he muttered, as he passed the rustling bundle across to his visitor, and slipped the case and cash-box back. "I must have no nonsense about those diamonds, Barclay," said her ladyship, "when I want them back." "Your ladyship has only to sign this paper," replied Barclay, "and hand me 600 pounds, and the gems come back to their owner." "Ah, Barclay, you are a dreadful ogre," she sighed, as she slipped the notes into her reticule. "You are quite as bad as a highwayman." "Only more useful, my lady," chuckled Barclay. "Well, Joseph?" The servant bent down and whispered: "Lord Carboro'." "Humph!" ejaculated Barclay. "Would your ladyship object to meet Lord Carboro'?" "Yes. Horrors!" exclaimed her ladyship. "Or no, never mind; let him come up. I have called to inspect some of your china--these Sevres jars." Barclay nodded to his man, who left the room; and, in support of her ladyship's suggestion, the money-lender was saying: "It's an opportunity, my dear madam, that does not often occur; the workmanship is unique," when Lord Carboro' was shown in, and his keen eyes glittered as he took in the situation at a glance. "Ah, Lady Drelincourt, you here!" "Yes, I'm here," she said, "but I've not come to borrow money; have you?" "Yes," said his lordship sharply. "Barclay, a word with you." The money-lender bowed. "Don't change countenance," said his lordship, "and talk about money. Get out your cash-box, and make believe to give me some." Lady Drelincourt walked to the window with a small vase, and took out her great, square, gold-rimmed eye-glass. "Money's very tight just now, my lord," said Barclay aloud. "That's right," said his lordship, in a low tone. "Look here, Barclay. I'd have waited till that old cat had gone, but time's precious. Look here. I've had a nasty hint that hits me very hard. You'll call me an old fool. Well, I am; but never mind. I shall never have her, but I love that girl of Denville's, and, damme, sir, I can't see her go to the bad without stretching out a hand." "What have you heard, my lord?" said Barclay, rattling his keys and opening his cash-box. "There's some cursed plan afloat--elopement, or that sort of thing-- to-night, I think; and we must stop it." "We, my lord!" said Barclay, jingling some coin. "Yes, we. You're an old friend of Denville's. I can't go to him." "Who's the man?" said Barclay. "Rockley, I think; curse him! Curse all these young, handsome men! Damme, sir, if I were forty years younger I'd be proud to marry her, for she's a good girl--yes, sir, a good girl." Barclay nodded. "But of course I can't expect her to take to a toothless, gouty old imbecile like me, poor child." "What do you know, my lord?"