"Young man," he said solemnly, "it might have been better if Mr. Grimm had given all he had to charity—for he left his money to an ingrate."
The "ingrate" laughed derisively.
"Ha! Ha! Ha!" he cried. "You amuse one! You don't know how amusing you are."
No one cared to add further to Frederik's amusement, so they all sat still. The room was now perfectly dark, except for an occasional flash of heat-lightning from the vanished storm.
Night had crept upon them unheeded, so intent had they been on their petty wrangling.
Finally Mrs. Batholommey got up and went towards the desk.
"Where is the miniature?" she demanded. "I don't want it—but I'll take it."
Frederik lighted a match, and by its flickering blaze found the discarded miniature lying face downward on the desk. Mrs. Batholommey snatched it from his fingers, and made her way back to the fireplace.
"Ha! Ha! Ha!" laughed Frederik again.
"Rose, my dear," began Mr. Batholommey, "the min——"