an important customer
is coming." Then she laughed and gave Cartwright her hand. "You are very
obstinate, Tom, but I know your pluck."

She went off. Gavin took away the wine, and Cartwright opened the
window. The smell of violets vanished, but when he sat down again he
pondered. He knew Mrs. Seaton, and thought she meant to hint his pluck
might soon be needed. When Ellen smiled like that she was plotting
something.

CHAPTER V

CARTWRIGHT'S SCRUPLES

The drawing-room at Mrs. Cartwright's house on the Cheshire side of the
Mersey was large and old-fashioned. Cartwright thought the stiff, thick
curtains and Victorian walnut furniture ugly, but Mrs. Cartwright liked
the things and he was satisfied. Clara herself frankly belonged to the
old school. She was conventional and often dull, but she had a placid
dignity that did not mark all the up-to-date women Cartwright knew.
Moreover, the house was comfortable. One got there by the Mersey tunnel
and it was only a few minutes' walk from the station. For all that, the
encroaching town had not yet reached the neighborhood, and the windows
commanded a pleasant view of clean rolling country and the blue Welsh
hills.

Cartwright felt the house was a snug harbor where he could rest when he
was too old and battered to front the storms that had for some time been
gathering, and sitting by the fire one evening, he speculated about the
rocks and shoals ahead. All the same, the time to run for shelter was
not yet; he thought he could ride out another gale.

An arch with heavy molding occupied the middle of the spacious room. The
folding doors had been removed and curtains partly screened the arch. On
the other side, a group of young men and women stood about the piano. On
Cartwright's side the lights were low. He had dined well and liked to
loaf after dinner. Besides, he felt dull; his gout bothered him and he
had been forced to run for his train. He had begun to find out one could
not do that kind of thing. Mrs. Cartwright sat opposite, knitting
quietly, and her smooth, rhythmic movements were soothing. Clara was
never abrupt and jerky.

"I got a letter from Stormont's by the afternoon post," she said. "They
have been repaid the mortgage, and there's something about a foreign
bond, drawn for redemption. They want to talk about a new investment."

Stormont, Wilmot and Stormont were her lawyers, and Cartwright nodded.
"The money ought to be earning interest and you can safely