Mr. Valentine Manners had long since retired from business. For many years he had travelled the world in search of something--he knew not what--which he had lost, and had returned home without finding it. Part of the time his nephew, Mark Inglefield, who was to be his heir, had travelled with him; but the younger man had made periodical visits to England upon his uncle's private affairs, of which he had the practical management. A fortune so vast as Mr. Valentine Manners had amassed was in itself a business, the care of which occupied a great deal of time. Mr. Hollingworth and his guest had discussed many matters, the most important of which was a proposed marriage between Mr. Hollingworth's only daughter, Beatrice, and Mark Inglefield, the rich contractor's heir. The girl was barely twenty, Mark Inglefield nearly fifty; but these disparities are not uncommon in matrimonial unions in which money and not love is the principal factor. Mr. Hollingworth had only one other child, a son of twenty-six, who had just been elected a member of the House of Commons. The conversation of the two gentlemen was interrupted by the announcement of a servant that a man wished to see Mr. Hollingworth. The tone of the servant when he uttered the words "a man" was a sufficient indication of his opinion of the visitor's standing. Mr. Hollingworth accepted his servant's opinion. "Did you say I was busy?" "I told him so, sir, and that you could not be disturbed." "Well?" "He said he must see you, sir, and that he would come every day and night till he did." Mr. Hollingworth groaned. "Did he give you his name?" "Yes, sir, and said you would know it. Mr. Parkinson--a stone-mason, he said he was." "Parkinson--Parkinson! I do not know the man, and I have not been engaged in building. More in your way, Mr. Manners." His guest nodded, but made no remark; there was nothing in the incident to interest him. "He has been here several times this week, sir," said the servant. "I remember now hearing of it, and I left instructions that he was to put his business with me in writing." "He paid no attention to that, sir, but kept on calling." "Well, we must get rid of him somehow. A stone-mason, eh? Parkinson--the very name for a stone-mason. My boy Dick carried his election on the working-man's interests. A popular cry; we are becoming very radical. Show Mr. Parkinson up. You have no objection, Mr. Manners?" "None at all." The servant retired, and returned, ushering in Mr. Parkinson. Mr. Hollingworth cast a keen glance at his visitor, and saw that he was to all appearance a respectable working-man. "You wish to see me?" "Yes, sir," replied Mr. Parkinson in a respectful tone, and yet with something of defiance. He had repaid Mr. Hollingworth's keen glance with interest. He was calmer now than when he had recounted his wrongs at the meeting of the Wilberforce Club; but although he was holding himself in check, he was quite as much in earnest.