"All arranged," he said. "Sophy is now a friendly patient in Tylney House. Did not tell you, did I, that I telegraphed to Peterssen from London yesterday afternoon?" "No," I replied, "I was not aware of it. You lay your plans well, Bob." "No use undertaking a job unless you do. I sent him telegram--'Coming to your establishment to-morrow with young patient. SILAS NETTLEFOLD.' We arrive in a fly--ring the bell--man appears. I ask, 'Dr. Peterssen at home?' 'Name?' inquires the man. 'Silas Nettlefold,' I answer. 'Dr. Peterssen is at home,' says man. 'Walk in.' I do. Sophy slouches by my side--good actress, that girl. Man eyes her. She doesn't notice him apparently. All the same she sees him--and reckons him up. In the grounds she picks up stone--looks at it--turns it over in her hand--shies it over the wall. 'A way she's got,' I say to man. Slip two half-crowns into his hand. He grins, and leads the way. Peterssen--damned scoundrel--receives us. I introduce myself--and my stepdaughter Maria. He shakes hands with me--no suspicion in his manner. I was looking out for that. Puts his thumb under my step-daughter's chin--raises her face. She gives a silly laugh, and turns away. I explain matters, saying first, 'Can I speak plainly to you?' 'I am a man of the world,' he says. 'So am I,' I respond. I give him a sly look; he gives me one. I motion Sophy, otherwise Maria, out of the room. He rings for man to take her into the grounds. 'Not my daughter,' I say; 'my first wife's. Widow when I married her. Now, dead. Six weeks ago I married again. Second wife wants her out of the house. So do I. More comfortable for all parties. Dumb from her birth; quite silly, but has, or will have when she's of age, property. Meanwhile I am her guardian. Willing to pay well to have her well taken care of. Must not be ill-treated. Am a Christian--so are you.' Peterssen smiles; I smile. I continue: 'It is to my interest that she shall be happy. I wish her to live a long life--in such an establishment as yours--at so much a year, paid in advance. I should like her to get fat. The longer she lives, the better for me. If she died her property would pass out of my control.' And so on, and so on. Peterssen comprehends--grasps the situation. Promises everything I ask. Shall be treated as friendly patient, but of course the charge will be proportionate. 'Quite so,' I say. Everything then is arranged. She will have perfect liberty inside the stone walls. Will be kindly treated. Will be allowed to walk freely about the grounds, and to indulge her harmless habit of occasional stone-throwing. So far, all plain sailing. Then comes question of terms. 'Two hundred a year,' says Peterssen, rather stiff. 'We'll not haggle,' I say. Peterssen much relieved. He's devilish hard up. Saw it with half an eye. His hand stretched out to clutch the money. Took advantage of his eagerness. Gave him twenty pounds on account of first quarter. Promise to pay the other thirty in a month.