by's offices with four small slips
of paper in his hand. Mr Scruby, as usual, was pressing for money.
The third election was coming on, and money was already being spent
very freely among the men of the River Bank. So, at least, Mr Scruby
declared. Mr Grimes, of the "Handsome Man," had shown signs of
returning allegiance. But Mr Grimes could not afford to be loyal
without money. He had his little family to protect. Mr Scruby,
too, had his little family, and was not ashamed to use it on this
occasion. "I'm a family man, Mr Vavasor, and therefore I never run
any risks. I never go a yard further than I can see my way back."
This he had said in answer to a proposition that he should take
George's note of hand for the expenses of the next election, payable
in three months' time. "It is so very hard to realize," said George,
"immediately upon a death, when all the property left is real
property." "Very hard indeed," said Mr Scruby, who had heard with
accuracy all the particulars of the old Squire's will. Vavasor
understood the lawyer, cursed him inwardly, and suggested to himself
that some day he might murder Mr Scruby as well as John Grey,--and
perhaps also a few more of his enemies. Two days after the interview
in which his own note of hand had been refused, he again called in
Great Marlborough Street. Upon this occasion he tendered to Mr Scruby
for his approval the four slips of paper which have been mentioned.
Mr Scruby regarded them with attention, looking first at one side
horizontally, and then at the other side perpendicularly. But before
we learn the judgement pronounced by Mr Scruby as to these four slips
of paper, we must go back to their earlier history. As they were
still in their infancy, we shall not have to go back far.

One morning, at about eleven o'clock the parlour-maid came up to
Alice, as she sat alone in the drawing-room in Queen Anne Street, and
told her there was a "gentleman" in the hall waiting to be seen by
her. We all know the tone in which servants announce a gentleman when
they know that the gentleman is not a gentleman.

"A gentleman wanting to see me! What sort of a gentleman?"

"Well, miss, I don't think he's just of our sort; but he's decent to
look at."

Alice Vavasor had no desire to deny herself to any person but one.
She was well aware that the gentleman in the hall could not be her
cousin George, and therefore she did not refuse to see him.

"Let him come up," she said. "But I thi