Martin Gurwood recollected that letter. It was written but a few days previously, when his hopes of winning Alice were at their highest, before this element of discord, this stranger of whose presence Statham had warned him, had come into the field. In his friend's remark, however, Martin found something which instinctively set him on his guard. It would not do, he thought, to let it be seen how acute was his interest in the subject on which Statham had written to him; mere friendship, mere regard for Alice's welfare would have contented itself with some far less active demonstration; and though there was no reason that he knew of for concealing the state of his feelings from his friend, as he had hitherto kept them to himself, he thought it was better not to parade them until some more fitting opportunity. So with something like a blush, for the smallest prevarication was strange to him, Martin said, 'You must not look upon your spells as so potent, my dear friend; the same post which brought me your letter brought me one from my mother, requesting an immediate decision on a matter which has been for some time in abeyance, and as this rendered it necessary for me to come to town, I took advantage of the opportunity to drop in upon you.' 'I am too pleased to see you to question what has brought you here,' said Humphrey, with a smile, 'and am grateful to Mrs. Calverley for her maternal despotism. And now tell me, what did you think of the news I sent you?' In spite of the strong effort to the contrary, the flush rose in Martin's cheeks, contrasting ill with the assumed calmness of manner with which he said, 'I received it with great regret.' 'By Jove, Martin, regret is a mild term to express the feeling with which I am inspired in this matter,' said Humphrey Statham vigorously. 'You have seen nothing of what has been going on, nor do I think it likely that with your ignorance of the world and its ways you would have been able to understand it if you had; but I think it desirable that you, whom we have all tacitly placed in the position of Alice's--of Mrs. Claxton's--guardian, should take some immediate action.' Martin coloured afresh. 'This--this gentleman--' he said. 'Do not misuse a good word,' said Statham, interrupting him. 'Henrich Wetter, the person of whom we are speaking, is by no means a gentleman in any sense of the term. He is a sharp, shrewd, clever knave, always keeping within the limits of the law, but within those limits thoroughly unscrupulous. He is good-looking, too, and wonderfully plausible; a more undesirable visitor for our friend in Pollington-terrace could scarcely be imagined.' 'And yet he is a cousin of Madame Du Tertre's, and came there through her introduction, I thought you said,' remarked Martin.