"And--your terms?" asked Mrs. Mallathorpe. Now that her own scheme had failed, she seemed quite placable to all Pratt's proposals--a sure sign of danger to him if he had only known it. "Better let me know them now--and have done with it." "Quite so," agreed Pratt. "But first of all--can you keep this secret to yourself and me? The money part, any way?" "I can--and shall," she answered. "Good!" said Pratt. "Very well. I want a thousand a year. Also I want two rooms--and a business room--at the Grange. I shall not interfere with you or your family, or your domestic arrangements, but I shall expect to have all my meals served to me from your kitchen, and to have one of your servants at my disposal. I know the Grange--I've been over it more than once. There's much more room there than you can make use of. Give me the rooms I want in one of the wings. I shan't disturb any of you. You'll never see me except on business--and if you want to." Again the calm acquiescence which would have surprised some men. Why Pratt failed to be surprised by it was because he was just then feeling exceedingly triumphant--he believed that Mrs. Mallathorpe was, metaphorically, at his feet. He had more than a little vanity in him, and it pleased him greatly, that dictating of terms: he saw himself a conqueror, with his foot on the neck of his victim. "Is that all, then?" asked the visitor. "All!" answered Pratt. Mrs. Mallathorpe calmly folded up the draft advertisement and placed it in her purse. Then she rose and adjusted her veil. "Then--there is nothing to be done until I get your answer to this--your application?" she asked. "Very well." Pratt showed her out, and walked to the cab with her. He went back to his rooms highly satisfied--and utterly ignorant of what Mrs. Mallathorpe was thinking as she drove away. CHAPTER IX UNTIL NEXT SPRING Within a week of his sudden death in Eldrick's private office, old Antony Bartle was safely laid in the tomb under the yew-tree of which Mrs. Clough had spoken with such appreciation, and his grandson had entered into virtual possession of all that he had left. Collingwood found little difficulty in settling his grandfather's affairs. Everything had been left to him: he was sole executor as well as sole residuary legatee. He found his various tasks made uncommonly easy. Another bookseller in the town hurried to buy the entire stock and business, goodwill, book debts, everything--Collingwood was free of all responsibility of the shop in Quagg Alley within a few days of the old man's funeral. And when he had made a handsome present to the housekeeper, a suitable one to the shop-boy, and paid his grandfather's last debts, he was free to depart--a richer man by some five-and-twenty thousand pounds than when he hurried down to Barford in response to Eldrick's telegram.