Only once did Archie venture to ask about the ex-policeman. "What did he do?"
"Oh, he drinks!" said Sarah, as quietly as if drinking were a trade of some kind. Archie asked no more.
Rummaging in a box one day, Archie found his last letter of introduction. It had been given him by Uncle Ramsay.
"You'll find him a rough and right sort of a stick," his uncle had said. "He was my steward, now he is a wealthy man, and can knock down his cheque for many thousands."
Archie dressed in his best and walked right away that afternoon to find the address.
It was one of the very villas he had often passed, in a beautiful place close by the water-side.
What would be his reception here?
This question was soon put at rest.
He rang the bell, and was ushered into a luxuriously-furnished room; a room that displayed more richness than taste.
A very beautiful girl—some thirteen years of age perhaps—got up from a grand piano, and stood before him.