, as if I were a five-year-old child. But I tell you, Robert, I'll
have my rights, and if I can't get them one way I will another. I won't
be treated as if I were no one. And there's one thing: if I am to be
this man's pa-in-law, I'll want to know something about him and his
money first. We may be poor, but we are honest. I'll up to the Hall now,
and have it out with him." He seized his hat and stick and made for the
door.

"No, no, father," cried Robert, catching him by the sleeve. "You had
better leave the matter alone. Mr. Haw is a very sensitive man. He would
not like to be examined upon such a point. It might lead to a serious
quarrel. I beg that you will not go."

"I am not to be put off for ever," snarled the old man, who had been
drinking heavily. "I'll put my foot down now, once and for ever." He
tugged at his sleeve to free himself from his son's grasp.

"At least you shall not go without Laura knowing. I will call her down,
and we shall have her opinion."

"Oh, I don't want to have any scenes," said McIntyre sulkily, relaxing
his efforts. He lived in dread of his daughter, and at his worst moments
the mention of her name would serve to restrain him.

"Besides," said Robert, "I have not the slightest doubt that Raffles
Haw will see the necessity for giving us some sort of explanation before
matters go further. He must understand that we have some claim now to be
taken into his confidence."

He had hardly spoken when there was a tap at the door, and the man of
whom they were speaking walked in.

"Good-morning, Mr. McIntyre," said he. "Robert, would you mind stepping
up to the Hall with me? I want to have a little business chat." He
looked serious, like a man who is carrying out something which he has
well weighed.

They walked up together with hardly a word on either side. Raffles Haw
was absorbed in his own thoughts. Robert felt expectant and nervous,
for he knew that something of importance lay before him. The winter had
almost passed now, and the first young shoots were beginning to peep out
timidly in the face of the wind and the rain of an English March. The
snows were gone, but the countryside looked bleaker and drearier, all
shrouded in the haze from the damp, sodden meadows.

"By the way, Robert," said Raffles Haw suddenly, as they walked up the
Avenue. "Has your great Roman picture gone to London?"

"I have not finished it yet."

"But I know that you are a quick worker. You must be nearly