“I ought to, since you have told me as much as fifty times. But I say, your hint of a large fortune sounds interesting. How much?” “One hundred to two hundred thousand pounds.” Dick whistled. “The deuce. We are playing with crowns and kingdoms it seems, old son. Fire away. I’m all attention, in the hope that some of the cash may come into my pockets.” Alan took no notice of this flippant remark, but went into the outer office to tell his clerk that he would be engaged for one hour. As a solicitor with a small but certain practice Fuller only enjoyed the ownership of two dingy rooms very badly lighted and still more badly furnished. His inner sanctum only contained a large writing-table, a green-painted iron safe, a shabby bookcase filled with law volumes bound in calf, and a few cane-bottomed chairs. A window with a slanting silvered glass outside to attract the light and reflect it into the dark room, was opposite the door, and beside it was a small grate in which at the present moment burned an equally small fire. Alan returned and seated himself beside this, taking out his pipe to enjoy the hour during which “he sported his oak,” as the phrase goes. Dick grunted and sucked at his briar in an opposite chair, waiting for Fuller to open the conversation. “I told you that Miss Inderwick had given me a clue,” began Alan, but was cut short by his friend. “Why not ‘Marie’ to me, my haughty solicitor?” “By all means,” said Fuller readily, “since I keep nothing from you. But I have fallen so much into the habit of speaking stiffly about Marie to outsiders, so as to prevent old Sorley from interfering, that I forget how implicitly I can trust you.” “I sha’n’t say a word about your wooing to the man, if that’s what you mean,” growled Dick, “but if you talk of ‘Miss Inderwick’ I shall expect you to call me ‘Mr. Latimer.’” “Oh, hang your nonsense. Let us get to business.” “How can we when you talk all round the shop?” protested Dick, raising his eyebrows. “Well, go on. You hinted to me that you spoke to Marie about the peacock.” “I did, but not to Mr. Sorley.” “Why not?” “Because I don’t trust him.” “Why not?” inquired Latimer once more and very stolidly. “Now you ask me a question which is not easy to answer,” said Alan, looking meditatively into the fire. “I can give no reason for my mistrust since, so far as I know, Sorley is straight enough on the whole.” “Well then, if he is straight, why mistrust him?” “I said on the whole he is straight; but he does certain things of which I do not approve.” “Such as stopping your wooing,” chuckled the journalist. “Ho! Ho!” “I rather refer to his selling certain valuable furniture which belongs to Marie, and which I am pretty sure he has no right to dispose of.” “It sounds crooked. But after all he is her guardian, and you don’t know what power the will of her father gives him.”