“Clive Reed, I will not have another word. Look here. I tell you what,” he said, with a chuckle; “have you made your will?”
“No, sir; not yet.”
“Make it then, and leave me to be paid at your death the amount I have lost. I won’t poison you to get it, my lad. There, no more talk about money. Now then, go upstairs and have three hours’ good sleep. Breakfast at nine.”
“No: I could not sleep,” said Clive. “I’ll go on now to Guildford Street. They will be getting up there by this time. Then I’m in for a busy day.”
Chapter Twenty Four.
Alone.
Breakfast-time at the cottage, and as a step was heard upon the stony path, Dinah rose quickly from her seat, then coloured and resumed her place, for she knew that it was impossible for her to receive letters so soon.
Then as the steps were heard receding, Martha entered bearing a packet of newspapers and a letter.