Mr. Hepper looked at Mr. Philcox, who shook his head.
"Nothing more, thank you, Mr. Fawcus," they declared in unison.
Mr. Fawcus was about to take his leave, when Mr. Philcox held up his hand.
"But wait a minute. Dear me, we have forgotten something. Yes—um—ah! Lady Flower instructed us that if on inquiries we should find that you had suitably performed your duty towards her granddaughter we should offer you this handsome token of appreciation."
Mr. Philcox flourished an envelope.
"I am happy to say, Mr. Fawcus, that our inquiries have proved perfectly satisfactory, and so perhaps you will take a little peep inside and also, I think, Mr. Hepper, it might be more in order if Mr. Fawcus were to sign this little receipt."
"Please thank her ladyship from me," said Mr. Fawcus grandly, putting the envelope down on the lawyer's table. "But the only token of her appreciation that I or Mrs. Fawcus should esteem would be an occasional communication from her lawyers if she does not care to write herself letting us know that—er—this young lady is well and happy. I wish you a very good morning, gentlemen." Mr. Fawcus made a bow, and left the office with Mary.
A few days later Mr. Fawcus, from the gliding shore, was waving farewell to the little girl.
"Don't forget to water my sweet sultans, Uncle William," Mary cried above the turmoil of the paddles.
"The less you say about water to poor Uncle William," Mrs. Fawcus commented almost sharply, "the better. It must have been just here that he carried you ashore in his arms ten years ago."