"Mr. Minot?" The girl's eyes narrowed. "And what has Mr. Minot to do with this?"
"Everything. He came down here as the representative of Lloyds. He came down to make sure that you didn't change your mind. He will tell you that I love you—"
A queer expression hovered about Miss Meyrick's lips. Spencer Meyrick interrupted.
"Nonsense," he cried. "There is no need to—"
"One moment." Cynthia Meyrick's eyes shone strangely. "Send for your brother, Allan. And—for—Mr. Minot."
Harrowby stepped to the telephone. He summoned his forces. A strained unhappy silence ensued. Then the two men entered the room together.
"Minot—George, old boy," Lord Harrowby said helplessly. "Miss Meyrick and her father have discovered the existence of a certain insurance policy about which you both know. They have believed that my motive in seeking a marriage was purely mercenary—that my affection for the girl who is—was—to have become my wife can not be sincere. They are wrong—quite wrong. Both of you know that. I've sent for you to help me make them understand—I can not—"
George Harrowby stepped forward, and smiled his kindly smile.
"My dear young lady," he said. "I regret that policy very deeply. When I first heard of it I, too, suspected Allan's motives. But after I talked with him—after I saw you—I was convinced that his affection for you was most sincere. I thought back to the gambling schemes for which the family has been noted—I saw it was the old passion cropping out anew in Allan—that he was really not to blame—that beyond any question he was quite devoted to you. Otherwise I'd have done everything in my power to prevent the wedding."
"Yes?" Miss Meyrick's eyes flashed dangerously. "And—your other witness, Allan?"