must be before he could ask his
friend to propose him at some West End club. On one halcyon summer
evening Lopez had dined with him at Ponder's End, had smiled on Mrs.
Parker, and played with the hopeful little Parkers. On that occasion
Sexty had assured his wife that he regarded his friendship with
Ferdinand Lopez as the most fortunate circumstance of his life. "Do
be careful, Sexty," the poor woman had said. But Parker had simply
told her that she understood nothing about business. On that evening
Lopez had thoroughly imbued him with the conviction that if you will
only set your mind that way, it is quite as easy to amass a large
fortune as to earn a small income.

About a week before the departure of the Whartons for Herefordshire,
Lopez, in compliance with Mrs. Roby's counsels, called at the
chambers in Stone Buildings. It is difficult to say that you will
not see a man, when the man is standing just on the other side of an
open door;--nor, in this case, was Mr. Wharton quite clear that he
had better decline to see the man. But while he was doubting,--at
any rate before he had resolved upon denying his presence,--the
man was there, inside his room. Mr. Wharton got up from his chair,
hesitated a moment, and then gave his hand to the intruder in
that half-unwilling, unsatisfactory manner which most of us have
experienced when shaking hands with some cold-blooded, ungenial
acquaintance. "Well, Mr. Lopez,--what can I do for you?" he said, as
he reseated himself. He looked as though he were at his ease and
master of the situation. He had control over himself sufficient for
assuming such a manner. But his heart was not high within his bosom.
The more he looked at the man the less he liked him.

"There is one thing, and one thing only, you can do for me," said
Lopez. His voice was peculiarly sweet, and when he spoke his words
seemed to mean more than when they came from other mouths. But Mr.
Wharton did not like sweet voices and mellow, soft words,--at least
not from men's mouths.

"I do not think that I can do anything for you, Mr. Lopez," he said.
There was a slight pause, during which the visitor put down his hat
and seemed to hesitate. "I think your coming here can be of no avail.
Did I not explain myself when I saw you before?"

"But, I fear, I did not explain myself. I hardly told my story."

"You can tell it, of course,--if you think the telling will do you
any good."

"I was not able to say then, as I can s