“Yes, yes,” he said, “you have some of your father's spirit, some of his pluck too. And that reminds me--we wrote to you to call.” “Yes.” “Mr. Davenant has told you that your father was engaged in some enterprise with this wonderful Mr. Scarlett Trent, when he died.” “Yes! He told me that!” “Well, I have had a visit just recently from that gentleman. It seems that your father when he was dying spoke of his daughter in England, and Mr. Trent is very anxious now to find you out, and speaks of a large sum of money which he wishes to invest in your name.” “He has been a long time thinking about it,” Ernestine remarked. “He explained that,” Mr. Cuthbert continued, “in this way. Your father gave him our address when he was dying, but the envelope on which it was written got mislaid, and he only came across it a day or two ago. He came to see me at once, and he seems prepared to act very handsomely. He pressed very hard indeed for your name and address, but I did not feel at liberty to disclose them before seeing you.” “You were quite right, Mr. Cuthbert,” she answered. “I suppose this is the reason why Mr. Davenant has just told me the whole miserable story.” “It is one reason,” he admitted, “but in any case I think that Mr. Davenant had made up his mind that you should know.” “Mr. Trent, I suppose, talks of this money as a present to me?” “He did not speak of it in that way,” Mr. Cuthbert answered, “but in a sense that is, of course, what it amounts to. At the same time I should like to say that under the peculiar circumstances of the case I should consider you altogether justified in accepting it.” Ernestine drew herself up. Once more in her finely flashing eyes and resolute air the lawyer was reminded of his old friend. “I will tell you what I should call it, Mr. Cuthbert,” she said, “I will tell you what I believe it is! It is blood-money.” Mr. Cuthbert dropped his eyeglass, and rose from his chair, startled. “Blood-money! My dear young lady! Blood-money!” “Yes! You have heard the whole story, I suppose! What did it sound like to you? A valuable concession granted to two men, one old, the other young! one strong, the other feeble! yet the concession read, if one should die the survivor should take the whole. Who put that in, do you suppose? Not my father! you may be sure of that. And one of them does die, and Scarlett Trent is left to take everything. Do you think that reasonable? I don't. Now, you say, after all this time he is fired with a sudden desire to behave handsomely to the daughter of his dead partner. Fiddlesticks! I know Scarlett Trent, although he little knows who I am, and he isn't that sort of man at all. He'd better have kept away from you altogether, for I fancy he's put his neck in the noose now! I do not want his money, but there is something I do want from Mr. Scarlett Trent, and that is the whole knowledge of my father's death.” Mr. Cuthbert sat down heavily in his chair.