"What! Do you want to make money too?"
"Certainly," said Blair, with irony; "I am a man of business."
She laughed, and took leave of him in a very amiable frame of mind. When he had gone, she smirked in front of a mirror and took a long look at herself.
"Two thousand pounds," she cried, "and my own savings! I'm not so old, after all. I'll run away from Cicero and marry again. Ha! ha! I've made a deal this time!" And she went in to luncheon with a most excellent appetite.
While this interview was taking place, Alan had been at Mrs. Harry's cottage. Having received no orders to the contrary, she ushered him into the sitting-room. There sat the Quiet Gentleman in his gray suit. At sight of Alan he started violently.
"Good-day, Mr. Brown," said his visitor, looking closely at him. "I have come to see you about that key you stole. You are dumb, I believe, but not deaf, so no doubt you follow my meaning."
The Quiet Gentleman made a step forward, and, to the amazement of his visitor, he spoke.
"Alan," he said--"Alan Thorold!"
The young man dropped into a chair, white and shaking. He knew that voice--he knew what was coming.
With a laugh the Quiet Gentleman pulled off his wig and beard.