asked.

"Oh, he said if he could see you he would get as many pounds as he
liked. He went on to remark that if he had to put up with any more of
this you could find somebody else to monkey with your fruit baskets at
Covent Garden. Idiotic, wasn't it?"

Fielden spoke carelessly, but he kept an eye upon Copley. He saw the
latter start, remarked the queer look on his face, and how his eyes
gleamed with anger.

"Absurd," he said. "I suppose the fellow thinks I am interested in
Covent Garden. But there is no accounting for the vagaries of a drunken
man. Anyway, it's not worth thinking about. Anything fresh to report?"

CHAPTER XXV

THE DERELICT

Raymond Copley went back into the house in a thoughtful mood. The
much-envied and much-talked-of millionaire was not particularly happy.
He had a good deal to occupy his attention and had reached a crisis in
his affairs which was likely to prove awkward unless something turned up
speedily. It was easy, as he often cynically observed, to obtain almost
unlimited credit upon the strength of his fictitious wealth, but
exceedingly difficult to raise even a hundred pounds in the City. He had
practically no security to offer his bankers, and dared not do anything
that would suggest to an outsider that he was in want of ready cash. One
or two of his schemes lately had ended in failure, and, so far as he
could see, it was almost impossible for him to hold out for the month
which intervened between now and the next meeting at Mirst Park.

Now here was a fresh cause of annoyance which he had not anticipated.
Unfortunately for the ultimate success of Copley's schemes, they
necessitated the employment of more than one subordinate, and these
subordinates had to be paid. Moreover, they were drawn unavoidably from
the refuse of the population, so that they were a standing source of
danger, for it is hazardous to depend upon people who are usually ready
to sell their services to the highest bidder. One of them had been so
audacious as to turn up at the very gates of Seton Manor and demand
money. Luckily, he had not said enough to rouse suspicions. His remarks
to Fielden might easily be ignored as the ravings of a drunken wretch.
Certainly they did not convey much intelligence. So far all was safe.

But it was a warning, and a warning that Copley did not care to
disregard. Happily, he thought, Fielden was not a curious man, or he
might have inquired farther into the incident. He might