"Well, look here, Philip. I can't stand this: a Cleeve was never mean yet--at least in our day. I am not rich, as you know, but I can manage this much. I will pay the premium to Tiplady; that is, I will refund the money to Maria: and you had better let it be settled upon her. But I do it in the belief that you will never play at folly again: understand that, young fellow." The tears had rushed to Philip's eyes. "Oh, Gunton, you may trust me! How generous you are!" When Philip had done thanking him, they began to talk of Captain Lennox and the suspicions attaching to him. "Where is he now?" asked Sir Gunton. "Nobody knows. He can't be found--by the police, or by anybody else. By the way, you knew him three or four years ago. Gunton." "_I_ knew him!" retorted Sir Gunton. "Knew Lennox!" "Any way, you have seen him. You met him at Cheltenham, at Major Piper's. Young Conroy, a fellow up at Heron Dyke, told me that much. The Major had a card-party, and you and Lennox were both at it, he said; and the next day the Major's jewels were missing. If you recollect, you spent a few days at Cheltenham about that time." "Yes, I did; and I recollect the evening. Lennox?--Lennox? Ay, I do remember him now. A fair, slender man of very gentlemanly manners: wore a white rose in his button-hole." "That's he. One can hardly believe him to be an accomplished swindler." "If he played these pranks often, helping himself to jewels and purses, and the like, he must have been uncommonly lucky to go on so long without detection," observed Sir Gunton. "The very remark Conroy made to me." "Pray, who is Conroy?" "The luckiest man living," replied Philip, with enthusiasm. "That's saying a good deal," cried the baronet, lifting his eyebrows. "Well, upon my word, I think he is, Gunton," returned Philip. "He is nothing but a man connected with newspapers; draws cartoons for them, or something of that. He and Miss Winter met somewhere and fell in love with one another, and she means to marry him and make him the master of Heron Dyke." "Oh, indeed. What next?" "I think that's pretty well. You can't say but he is lucky." "Is the man a sneak?" "Just the opposite. A highly-educated, open-mannered, masterful kind of man, who can hold his own with his betters, and apparently, not recognise them to be so. To see him and hear him you might think he had been born the master of Heron Dyke at least. Any way, that's what Ella Winter intends him to become." "She has the Denison blood in her veins, I suppose, and we know the old distich," carelessly remarked Sir Gunton: "'Whate'er a Denzon choose to do Need ne'er surprise nor me nor you.'"