"I'll give you a sovereign to hold your tongue," I exclaimed, desperately.
"Very well, sir," he said, "hand it over."
"I'll give it you to-morrow," I replied. As a matter of fact my cash in hand amounted to some fifteen shillings.
"Oh, I daresay," he replied, with a grin. "Make it five shillings more, young lady."
He got the five shillings, and then began as though he were unfolding a portentous secret.
"I'm in for a matter of £300 recovered in the action of Prentice versus Arbuthnot."
There was no false delicacy about Miss Prentice; she had gleefully sued as assignee in her own name.
"Miss Ellen Prentice?" Miss Ormerod asked, quickly.
"I fancy that's the name," he said, searching among some greasy papers.
"Oh, that will do," Miss Ormerod replied, with a flushed face. "Mr. Arbuthnot, I want to speak to you."