"Who could tell her?" asked the Count, angrily.
"She may get assistance from those other people——"
"The Anerleys?" replied the Count, with a splendid laugh. "Why, man, every penny of old Anerley's money is with Miall & Welling. Safe keeping there, eh? Bless you, she has no alternative—except this, that she's sure to run off and disappear suddenly in some wild attempt at becoming a governess. I know she means something that way."
"And then you'll lose sight of her," said the thin-faced brother, peering into the slip of grey sky visible through the small and dusty window.
What his thoughts were at this moment he revealed to his wife at night.
"My dear," he said, in dulcet tones, "I am afraid my brother is a very selfish man, and wants to get this poor girl's money. If she were to become friends with us, we might guard her against him. Indeed, it might only be fair to tell her what money awaits her, whenever she chooses to take it; and perhaps, you know, Jane, she might give a little present to the children, out of gratitude, you know."
"A few thousand pounds would be nothing to her, John," said the wife, thinking of her darling boys.
"And Fred's money he's sure to keep to himself. He seems to have no idea that his family have claims upon him."
However, to return to the Count, he then proceeded to unfold to his brother the plan he had conceived for the entrapping of this golden-crested wren which was so likely to fly away:
"All the little money she may have saved will be swallowed up in the funeral expenses. After that—what? Music-lessons, or French, or something. Very good. I know she has been already watching the advertisements in the Times. Now what I want you to do is this—publish an advertisement which will attract her attention, and secure her as a governess."