"Twelve-and-sixpence."
"Twelve-and-sixpence!" repeated the voice. "What a swindle."
"You needn't pay it if you don't like."
"But then the telegram would not go?"
"Of course it wouldn't."
The clink of silver was heard, dashed down upon the counter. "I can't stop to argue about the charge, so I must pay it," grumbled the voice. "But it's a great shame, young man."
"The charges ain't of my fixing," responded the young man. "Good afternoon, ma'am."
She bustled out again as hurriedly as she had come in, not having seen Mr. St. John, or suspected that the wooden partition had any one behind it. He went to the door, looked after her, and recognized Prance: he thought he had not been mistaken in the voice. She was walking very fast indeed in the direction of Castle Wafer.
"I must see that message, Jones," said Mr. St. John, turning back into the little room.
Mr. Jones hesitated; but there was an air of quiet command in the words--and the speaker was the heir of Castle Wafer. He laid the written message on the desk.