"Yes," said Hale anxiously, "you may know of him, Mr. Michael Tait, the stockbroking philanthropist."
"Oh," drawled the solicitor quietly, "the same man who lost his jewels the other day."
"Yes," admitted Hale, quite ignorant of how much Jabez knew, "the same. He was poor when Miss Morse--or Miss Ellis if you like--came to his wife, and Mrs. Tait kept a boarding-house to help him. Then Tait made a lucky speculation--he was a clerk in the City--and began to grow rich. But before he could make a fortune Mrs. Tait died, and thus never benefited."
"No, poor dear, and she was so very kind," said Maud sweetly, "however, when my uncle grew rich----"
"Your uncle?" queried Jabez.
Maud coloured to the roots of her sandy hair. "I have fallen into the habit of calling my friend Mr. Tait my uncle. And, indeed, until the other day I almost thought that he was my uncle until I knew the truth. But as I was saying, Mr. Jabez, my uncle--for I still call Mr. Tait so--placed a magnificent tombstone over her remains when he grew rich. That is my story."
"A very interesting one," said Jabez politely. "Then I take it that you are the young lady entitled to fifty thousand pounds."
"I am. I understood that when I came and presented that cross," Maud pointed to the ornament on the table, "that the money would be given to me."
"You certainly said as much to me, Jabez," chimed in Hale anxiously.
"Quite right. The cross," Jabez waved his hand, "was only a little attempt of mine to introduce romance into the dry details of the law. Of course it is a means of identification, but it will be necessary for Miss Ellis to produce her certificate of birth, her baptismal certificate and----"