There was heat enough and fire enough in the young fellow's tone to bring blood to the cheek of an older man so spoken to. Lowndes looked delighted; he even clapped his hands. "Well said, Ringrose; said like a sportsman!" he cried. "I like to hear a young chap talk out straight from the chest like that. I think all the more of you, my son, and you shall have your old bag by five o'clock if I bust for it. Only look here: don't you be angry with your grandfather!" Harry burst out laughing in his own despite. "It's impossible to be angry with you," he said. "Still, I must----" "I see you must. So I'll jump into a hansom and I'll raise the fiver to redeem your bag if I have to drive all over the City of London for it!" Harry laughed again, and sat down to wait as Lowndes went clattering down the stone stair-case. And as he sat there alone he suddenly grew pale. In his rage with Lowndes he had forgotten Lowndes's daughter, and now the thought of her turned his heart sick. He found it possible to forgive the father for an indictable offence. It should have been comparatively easy to forgive the daughter for receiving in her sore need the virtual proceeds of that crime. Yet the thought that she had done so was intolerable to him, and his heart began a sudden tattoo as a stiff step was heard ascending the stairs. "Mr. Backhouse," said Harry, as that worthy reappeared, "I want a plain answer to a plain question." "I shall be delighted to give you one," said Mr. Backhouse, "if it is in my power, sir." "Do you know where my bag is?" Mr. Backhouse said nothing. "Then I see you do," cried Harry; "and so do I; and that was not my question at all. Did Miss Lowndes know about it?" "No, sir." "You are sure?" "Certain! She never saw him take it out; he took jolly good care she shouldn't; and he came back with a yarn as long as your leg to account for the money." Harry's feelings were a revelation to himself; they were the beginning of the greatest revelation of his life. But he cloaked them carefully and passed the better part of an hour reading the newspaper and exchanging an occasional remark with the lessee of the office. And no later than a quarter to four, which was long before Harry expected him, Lowndes was back. But he looked baffled, and there was no bag in his hand. "Will either of you fellows lend me five bob for the cab?" he panted. "I've been all over the City of London." Mr. Backhouse shook his head. "And I can't," said Harry, "for I have barely enough to take me down to Guildford and back." "Then we must keep him waiting too. Here, Jimmy"--to the office-child--"you stand by to take a telegram. Now, Ringrose, you're going to see me play trumps. Old Bacchus has seen 'em before." Indeed, that specimen's unwholesome face was already wreathed in dissipated grins. Lowndes seized a telegram form, sat down with his hat on the back of his head, and began writing and talking at the same time.