The car stopped and then sped on again.
"Amy has never been any trouble to me," said Mr. Masters, "but I am getting old now, and I would give a thousand pounds to see her happily married."
"To whom would you give it?" asked John, whipping out his pocket-book.
"Tut, tut, a mere figure of speech. But I would settle a hundred thousand pounds on her on the wedding-day."
"Indeed?" said John thoughtfully. "Can we stop at another post-office?" he added, bringing out his fountain-pen again.
He took out a second telegraph form and wrote:
"Macmacmacmacmac, London. Shall not be back till Friday. Blunt."
The car dashed on again, and an hour later arrived at a commodious mansion standing in its own well-timbered grounds of upwards of several acres. At the front door a graceful figure was standing.
"My solicitor, dear, Mr. Blunt," said Mr. Masters.
"It is very good of you to come all this way on my father's business," she said shyly.