"Miss Edith am out," said Hannibal loftily.
"I half believe you lie," muttered Mr. Fox, looking very black.
"Sarch de house, sah. It am a berry gentlemanly proceeding."
"Where has she gone? and whom did she go with?"
"I hab no orders to say," said Hannibal, looking fixedly at the ceiling of the vestibule.
The knightly suitor turned on his heel, muttering, "They are playing me false."
'Twas a pity, and he so true.
The next day Edith was sick and Mr. Allen's stock was rising. Hannibal again sent Mr. Fox baffled away, but with a dangerous gleam in his eyes.
On the following morning Mr. Allen found a note on his desk. His face grew livid as he read it, and he often put his hand to his head. He sat down and wrote to this effect, however:
"I am arranging the partnership matter as rapidly as possible. In regard to my daughter you will ruin all if you show no more discretion. I cannot compel her to marry you. You may make it impossible to influence her in your favor. You have been well received. What more can you ask? A matter of this kind must be arranged delicately."