"Yes; it was to talk about Angel, and tell me her wishes respecting her."
"And what were they?"
"That I was to be her guardian, and have absolute control over the child," replied the young man. "I intend to educate and provide for her. Oh yes, by the way, her mother wished her to have all her jewellery."
"All her jewellery!" repeated Colonel Wilkinson. "Oh, I don't know about that! I believe it is my property in the eye of the law—there was no will, you see."
"But you have no girls, and at least you will scarcely care to keep what Angel's father gave her mother?"
"I suppose you mean the diamond ring?" stammered Colonel Wilkinson, a little cowed by the young man's manner. "Well, I'll think it over; but look here, Gascoigne, I'm a firm believer in pen and ink; would you mind writing me a letter, a formal letter, to say that you propose to relieve me from all charges or responsibilities connected with Angela Gascoigne?"
"Certainly, with pleasure; and on your side, I shall expect you to hand me over any jewellery that belonged to her mother—at least, before she became your wife."
"Um," grunted Colonel Wilkinson, "that ring is rather a big thing. I've had it valued, and it's worth a hundred pounds." He took another turn to the end of the room and back, then he halted in front of his visitor and said, ungraciously, "Well, it's a bargain—you can have the ring, and all the bangles, too; it's a cheap exchange for your written agreement to rid me of a plague."
Philip Gascoigne experienced a most disagreeable sensation; he felt precisely as if he had just purchased the child for a hundred pounds. He instantly rose to end the interview, and said, "I will send you the document as soon as I go home."
"And when will you be prepared to take over charge?" inquired the anxious stepfather.