“Haven’t you a young man?”

“Well, I might.  But he’s over in my country.

“What d’you think of this?”

He held out the little boy.

The girl took the card and scrutinised it reverently; she said in a detached voice: 

“Indeed, an’ ut’s pretty, too.”

“Would you like it?”

“Oh I if ’tis not taking ut from you.”

Old Heythorp shook his head, and pointed to the dressing-table.

“Over there—­you’ll find a sovereign.  Little present for a good girl.”

She uttered a deep sigh.  “Oh! sirr, ’tis too much; ’tis kingly.”

“Take it.”

She took it, and came back, her hands clasping the sovereign and the valentine, in an attitude as of prayer.

The old man’s gaze rested on her with satisfaction.

“I like pretty faces—­can’t bear sour ones.  Tell Meller to get my bath ready.”

When she had gone he took up the other letter—­some lawyer’s writing, and opening it with the usual difficulty, read: 

“February 13, 1905.

“Sir,—­Certain facts having come to my knowledge, I deem it my duty to call a special meeting of the shareholders of ’The Island Navigation Coy.,’ to consider circumstances in connection with the purchase of Mr. Joseph Pillin’s fleet.  And I give you notice that at this meeting your conduct will be called in question.

“I am, Sir, “Yours faithfully,
“Charles Ventnor. 
“Sylvanus Heythorp, Esq.”

Having read this missive, old Heythorp remained some minutes without stirring.  Ventnor!  That solicitor chap who had made himself unpleasant at the creditors’ meetings!

There are men whom a really bad bit of news at once stampedes out of all power of coherent thought and action, and men who at first simply do not take it in.  Old Heythorp took it in fast enough; coming from a lawyer it was about as nasty as it could be.  But, at once, with stoic wariness his old brain began casting round.  What did this fellow really know?  And what exactly could he do?  One thing was certain; even if he knew everything, he couldn’t upset that settlement.  The youngsters were all right.  The old man grasped the fact that only his own position was at stake.  But this was enough in all conscience; a name which had been before the public fifty odd years—­income, independence, more perhaps.  It would take little, seeing his age and feebleness, to make his Companies throw him over.  But what had the fellow got hold of?  How decide whether or no to take notice; to let him do his worst, or try and get into touch with him?  And what was the fellow’s motive?  He held ten shares!  That would never make a man take all this trouble, and over a purchase which was really first-rate business for the Company.  Yes!  His conscience was quite clean.  He had not betrayed his Company—­on the contrary, had