"You shall know at once, Monsieur Calverley: I want you to accept me as your friend, and to prove that you do so by giving me your confidence." John Calverley started. "Yes, your confidence," continued Pauline. "I have talent and energy, and, when I am trusted, could prove myself a friend worth having; but I am too proud to accept half-confidences, and where no trust is reposed in me I am apt to ally myself with the opposite faction. Why not trust in me, Monsieur Calverley--why not tell me all?" "All--what all, madame?" "About your partner, Monsieur Claxton, and the reason why you do not bring him--" "Hush! pray be silent, I implore you!" said John Calverley, stepping towards her and taking both her hands in his. "I cannot imagine," he said, after a moment's pause, "what interest my business affairs can have for you; but since you seem to wish it, you shall know them all; only not here and not now." "Yes," said Pauline, with provoking calmness, '"in the City, perhaps?" "Yes; at my office in Mincing-lane." "And when?" "To-morrow week, at four o'clock; come down there then, and I will tell you all you wish to know." "Right," said Pauline, slipping out of the room in an instant. And before John Calverley let himself out at the street-door, he heard the drawing-room piano ringing out the grand march from the _Prophète_ under her skilful hands. Three days afterwards a man came up from the office with a letter for Mrs. Calverley. It was from her husband, stating he had a telegram calling him down to Swartmoor at once, and requesting that his portmanteau might be packed and given to the messenger. This worthy was seen and interrogated by the mistress of the house. "He knew nothing about the telegram," he said, "but when his master gave him the letter he looked bothered and dazed-like." Mrs. Calverley shook her head, and opined that her prophecies anent the downfall of the Swartmoor Ironworks were about to be realised. But Pauline did not seem to be much put out at the news. "It is important, doubtless," she said to herself, "and he must go; but he will return in time to keep his appointment with me." The day arrived and the hour, and Pauline was punctual to her appointment, but Mr. Calverley had not arrived, though one of the clerks said he had left word that it was probable he might return on that day. That was enough for Pauline; she would await his arrival. An hour passed. Then there was a great tearing up and down stairs, and hurrying to and fro, and presently, when a white-faced clerk came in to get his hat, he stared to see her there. He had forgotten her, though it was he who had ushered her into the waiting-room. "There was no use in her remaining there any longer," he said; "the head-clerk, Mr. Jeffreys, had been sent for to Great Walpole-street; and though nobody knew anything positive, everybody felt that something dreadful had occurred." CHAPTER XII. "WHEN DOCTORS DISAGREE."