"Of course not. I know well enough what you was thinking of. But you take my advice and don't spoil a big thing for a little one. Work her easy and you can land her. That's better a good sight than playing with her in your usual way."
He rose and walked to the window and looked out, vaguely annoyed. He turned, in a moment, to ask, "Has the old man made a will?"
"D'you mean to say you ain't found that out yet? Lord, Frank, you are getting slow. I don't know. I ain't come to that yet. But if he ain't, I'll see that he does make one, and that's where I can look out for your interests."
There was a slight sneer on his face. "Oh, don't trouble yourself. I've my own system, you know. I haven't made many breaks yet. It's likely that I can help you more than you can me. That reminds me; you might take these notes. It's about all I have got from the girl so far. They may come in handy."
He went to his desk, took a couple of cards from a tin box in the top drawer, and handed them to Madam Spoll. She looked them over interestedly.
"Much obliged. H'm! So she thinks she's a psychic, does she? They might be something in that. Supposed to be engaged to B. Cayley. Well, you'll have to fix him, won't you! Father writing a book—ah! That's just what we want. Say, that's great! Me and Vixley will work that book, don't you worry! Wears a ring with 'Clytie' inside. Turquoises. Mole on left cheek. Goes to Mercantile Library three to five. Sun-dial with doll buried under it. That's funny. I wish it was papers, or something important—I don't see what we could do with a doll, do you? Still, you never can tell. All's generally fish that comes to my net. I've known stranger things than dolls. Making a birthday present of a hand-bound volume of what? Montaigne? What's that? Say, what's this about Madam Grant, anyway?"
He turned to her and held out his hand for the card, now distinctly impatient. "I don't know—that is, I forgot I put that on. There's nothing there that will help you, I guess. You'd better let me have it back, after all. It's chiefly about Miss Payson, anyway, and that isn't your business."
Madam Spoll refused to return the card. Instead, she tucked it into the front of her dress, saying, "Oh, I don't know. You never know what may be useful. It's well to be prepared."
"See here; you understand that you're to keep your hands off Miss Payson," said Granthope with emphasis. "She's my game. Do what you like with the old man, but leave me alone, that's all!"
"Don't you fret yourself about that. Ain't we worked together before, for gracious sakes? I guess I can mind my own business!"