But her meditation was soon interrupted.
"There's a gentleman below wishes to see you, Mrs. Lane," said Susan, the servant.
"Who is it? Did you ever see him before?"
"No, ma'am."
"What name did he give?"
"Here's his card, ma'am. I came near forgetting to give it to you."
Mrs. Lane took the card from the servant's hand, and glanced at it.
She turned pale and uttered a half exclamation. Of all men in the world John Graves was about the last she wished to see. It was he who had deposited thirty thousand dollars in her husband's hands, and now, doubtless, he had come to claim it. This would take away more than half of the fortune on whose possession she had been congratulating herself.
What should she do? While she was considering this difficult question, Mr. Graves was ushered into the room.
He was a man of somewhat less than medium size, sixty years of age, but looking considerably older on account of his white hair and beard.