" said Lord Grayleigh; "you will
reconsider your refusal?"

"I would rather not."

"But if I as a personal favor beg you to do so."

"There is not the slightest doubt that the pay tempts me," said
Ogilvie; "it would be a kindness on your part to close the matter now
finally, to relieve me from temptation. But suppose I were to--to
yield, what would the shareholders say?"

"They would be managed. The shareholders will expect to pay the
engineer who assays the mine for them handsomely."

Ogilvie stood in a dubious attitude, Grayleigh went up and laid his
hand on his shoulder.

"I will assume," he said, "that you get over scruples which after all
may have no foundation, for the mine may be all that we wish it to be.
What I want to suggest is this. Someone must go to Australia to assay
the Lombard Deeps. If you will not take the post we must get someone
else to step into your shoes. The new claim was discovered by the
merest accident, and the reports state it to be one of the richest
that has ever been panned out. Of course that is as it may be. We will
present you, if you give a good assay, with five hundred shares in the
new syndicate. You can wait until the shares go up, and then sell out.
You will clear thousands of pounds. We will also pay your expenses and
compensate you handsomely for the loss of your time. This is Monday;
we want you to start on Saturday. Give me your decision on Wednesday
morning. I won't take a refusal now."

Ogilvie was silent; his face was very white, and his lips were
compressed together. Soon afterward the two men parted.

Lord Grayleigh returned to Grayleigh Manor by a late train, and
Ogilvie went back to his empty house. Amongst other letters which
awaited him was one with a big blot on the envelope. This blot was
surrounded by a circle in red ink, and was evidently of great moment
to the writer. The letter was addressed to "Philip Ogilvie, Esq.," in
a square, firm, childish hand, and the great blot stood a little away
from the final Esquire. It gave the envelope an altogether striking
and unusual appearance. The flap was sealed with violet wax, and had
an impression on it which spelt Sibyl. Ogilvie, when he received this
letter, took it up tenderly, looked at the blot on the cover of the
envelope, glanced behind him in a shamefaced way, pressed his lips to
the violet seal which contained his little daughter's name, then
sitting down in his chair, he opened the envelope.

Sibyl w