"It's easy to earn a living, dear, if you just half try.
"And now for this new complication. For the three years that I have been away from England, not a single word have I sent home. I daresay they know that I am alive, and that I'll turn up some day like the bad penny. I was named in my grandfather's will. He once told me he intended to leave the bulk of the unentailed property to me,—not because he loved me well but because he loved my two cousins not at all. For all I know, he may never have altered his will. In that case, I still remain the chief legatee and a source of tremendous uneasiness to my precious aunts and their blackguard sons. It is possible, even probable, that they have decided the safest place to have me is behind the bars,—at least until Lord Fenlew has changed his will for the last time and lies securely in the family vault. I can think of no other explanation for the action of Scotland Yard. But, don't worry, dear. I haven't done anything wrong, and they can't stow me away in—"
"The beasts!" cried Jane, furiously.
He stroked her clenched fingers.
"I wouldn't call 'em names, dear," he protested. "They're honest fellows, and simply doing—"
"They are the most despicable wretches on earth."
"You must be referring to my cousins. I thought—"
"Now, Eric," she broke in firmly, "I sha'n't let you give yourself up. You owe something to me. I love you with all my soul. If they were to take you back to London and—and put you in prison,—I'd—I'd die. I could not endure—" She suddenly broke down and, burying her face on his shoulder, sobbed chokingly.
He was deeply distressed.
"Oh, I say, dearest, don't—don't go under like this. I—I can't stand it. Don't cry, darling. It breaks my heart to see you—"