"My dear lord," he said, in his sweetest voice, "we men of business know a great deal more than most people give us credit for knowing. One little bird—pray don't think I wished him to whisper secrets—came to me one day and whispered your name and that of a certain well-known money-lender."
The earl's face grew more fixed, but he did not move a muscle or show the slightest anger or surprise at the captain's knowledge of his embarrassments.
"Do not be afraid, my lord," said the schemer, in his softest voice; "the secret is safe with me. I shall not tell any one that Lackland Hall is mortgaged to the neck; that there is a lien on every other house your lordship holds; that there is a bill of sale upon the furniture, and that Lady Lackland's diamonds are at the jewelers, being repaired. I shall not tell all this because it is not to my interest to do so."
The earl sat stroking his mustache and looking straight before him.
"You do indeed speak plainly, Mr. Murpoint," he said, "and, while I will not endeavor to disprove or deny your assertions, I must at least confess that they startle me. Granting, merely for argument's sake, that I am er—er—somewhat embarrassed, I cannot see how it can be to your interest to help me."
There was a pause.
Presently a couple—a handsome man and a beautiful woman—passed them as they promenaded after the dance.
"What a couple they make. My ward is beautiful and well-bred, my lord, and Lord Boisdale and she are good friends."
The earl scrutinized the sleek, serene face of the speaker with acute anxiety.
"I see," he said, "I see. You are right, you are right, Mr. Murpoint; they would make a handsome and suitable pair. It is a capital idea."