'Mr. Halliday—you lost two hundred guineas last night, and on Sunday you lost four hundred.'
'Zounds, Miss or Mistress, how do you know?'
'I know because I am told. You are a very rich man, Mr. Halliday, are you not? You must be to lose so much every night. You must be very rich indeed. You have whole fleets of your own, and Quays and Warehouses filled with goods—and you inherited a great fortune only two years ago.'
He sank back in a chair and gazed stupidly upon her. 'How speeds your noble trade? How fares it with your fleets? How much is left of your great fortune?' He growled, but made no reply. Curiosity and wonder seized him and held him. Besides, what reply could he make?
'Who are you?' he asked.
'I will tell you, perhaps. How do you stand with Mr. Probus?'
He sprang to his feet again. 'This is too much. How dare you speak of my private affairs? What do you know about Mr. Probus?'
'How long is it, Mr. Halliday, since you agreed with Mr. Probus that your cousin should be locked up in a Debtors' Prison there to remain till he died, or sold his birthright?'
He answered with a kind of roar, as if he had no words left. He stood before her—the table between—half in terror—half in rage. Who was this woman? Besides, he was already very nearly beside himself over the long continuance of his bad luck.
'Who are you?' he asked again. 'What do you know about my cousin?'