"Well, Sir Richard Frayne, Baronet, there's the transaction down in a neat handwriting in my book, and I give a cheque for it, and there's the cheque as come back from the bank with your name on the back, as well as Mr Mark Frayne's on the receipt." "What?" "As afore said, sir; and people--I mean your lawyers and guardians--'ll believe it. They won't be so shabby as to say you were under age when they have lots of your money in trust." Richard stared at the man, half-stunned. "There, Sir Richard, don't let's make a fuss and a lot of unpleasantry about a trumpery little amount like that, when it is all so easy for you." "I say I've never had the money. Go to Mr Mark Frayne." "But don't you see as that's as good as saying he's been a-swindlin' of me? And if I goes to my lawyer and lays it all before him, he'll be for putting it in court, or p'raps worse; and it would go very hard on Mr Mark. I'm afraid they wouldn't treat it as if it were a debt; they might say--" "Silence!" "That's what I says, sir. His father a parson, too; and it wouldn't do Mr Draycott no good. Hadn't you better sign?" "Without seeing my cousin first and making him explain? No. Take away your papers at once." "To my lawyers, sir?" Richard hesitated. "No," he said at last. "I'll see my cousin, and bring him on to you." "Ah! Now that's talking sensible, sir. We can settle it, of course. Why, it would be such a mad thing to go to lawyers and make expenses, and have a reg'lar trouble, when your name on three bits of paper would save both of you from unpleasantry." "Both of us?" cried Richard. "Well, yes, sir, perhaps; for there's no knowing what people might say. They can be tidy hard on anyone as won't pay when he can." "That will do!" cried Richard angrily. "I have told you that I will see my cousin." "Ve--ry good, Sir Richard," said the tailor, carefully doubling up his slips of paper. "But hadn't you better sign now, and see him after?" "No." "Well, sir, you know best; but if it was my case, and I hadn't had the cash, I should sign, and then go and give my cousin the howdaciousest hiding he ever had. That's better than sending him to prison and before a judge. I wish you good-morning, sir--I suppose I ought to have said Sir Richard Frayne. I shall be at home all day to-morrow, sir, a-waiting on you." CHAPTER TWO. IN HOT BLOOD. "Yes, and you'll have to wait," cried Richard Frayne, as the door closed on the man, and he listened to the departing steps as he involuntarily crossed to the stand, picked up his flute, and rearranged the music, but only to throw it down angrily and replace his instrument. "The scoundrel!" he cried. "Here, I must have this out at once." He was no longer the quiet, dreamy-looking musician, but full of angry energy; and in this spirit he went straight to his cousin's room, knocked, and went in; but the place was empty.