"There, what do you think of that?" asked Vernon of Remington, when the two met on the following morning.
"It's pretty strong," was the physician's answer. "If the president of that company got hold of the letter he could make you sweat for it."
"But he shan't get hold of it. As soon as my aunt comes back, I'll confiscate the letter,--and I'll look to you to do the rest."
"I am ready to do all I can. If we work the deal properly, we'll have her in a private asylum inside of forty-eight hours after she returns."
The letter was duly addressed to Mrs. Vernon, in care of the Charing Cross Hotel, London, and Frederic carried it down to the post-office so that it might start on its long journey without delay.
"I suppose I'll have to wait at least two weeks now," said Vernon dolefully. "It's a long time, but it cannot be helped."
He was waiting patiently for the time to come when he might draw his allowance from Mr. Farley.
Promptly on the day it was due he called at the lawyer's office.
He expected seven hundred and fifty dollars--a quarter of his yearly allowance of three thousand dollars, but instead, Mr. Farley offered him a hundred and fifty dollars.
"Why, what does this mean?" demanded the young man, who could scarcely believe the evidence of his eyesight.