Albert looked from Palethorpe to the writ, and from the writ to Palethorpe. His face flushed and his jaw, a weak and purposeless one, dropped. "What's it all about?" he asked, feebly. "I--I don't owe nobody aught, Mr. Palethorpe. A writ!--for me?" "Suit of Jecholiah Farnish--breach of promise--damages claimed, two thousand pounds," answered Palethorpe, promptly. "That's what it is! Lord, bless me!--do you mean to say you haven't been expecting it!" He laughed, half sneeringly, and suddenly broke his laughter short. George Grice had come in, softly, by the back door of the room, and had evidently heard the solicitor's announcement of the reason of his visit. Palethorpe composed his face, and made the grocer a polite bow. It was his policy, on all occasions, to do honour to money, and he knew George to be a well-to-do man. "Good afternoon, Mr. Grice!" he said. "Fine day, isn't it--splendid weather for----" Grice cut him short with a scowl. "What did I hear you say?" he demanded, angrily. "Summat about yon Farnish woman, and breach o' promise, and damages? What d'yer mean?" "Just about what you've said," retorted Palethorpe. "I've served your son with a writ on Miss Farnish's behalf--you'd better read it together." Grice glanced nervously at the curtained door which led into the shop. Then he beckoned Palethorpe and Albert to follow him, and led them out of the room and across a passage to a small apartment at the rear of the house, a dismal nook in which his account books and papers of the last thirty years had been stored. He carefully closed the door and turned on the solicitor. "Do you mean to tell me 'at yon there hussy has had the impudence to start proceedin's for breach o' promise again my son?" he said. "I never knew such boldness or brazenness i' my born days! Go your ways back, young man, and tell her 'at sent you 'at she'll get nowt out o' me!" Palethorpe laughed--something in his laugh made the grocer look at him. And he saw decision and confidence in Palethorpe's face, and suddenly realised that here was trouble which he had never anticipated. "Nonsense, Mr. Grice!" exclaimed Palethorpe. "I'm surprised at you!--such a keen and sharp man of business as you're known to be. We want nothing out of you--we want what we do want out of your son!" "He has nowt!" growled the grocer. "He's nowt but what I----" "Nonsense again, Mr. Grice," interrupted Palethorpe. "He's your partner, with a half-share in the business, as you've announced to a good many of your neighbours and cronies during the last week or so, and he's also got two thousand pounds with his wife. Come, now, what's the good of pretending? Your son's treated my client very badly, very badly indeed, and he'll have to pay. That's flat!" Grice suddenly stretched out a hand towards his son. "Gim'me that paper!" he said.