se papers lying on Crewe's desk, read several letters,
opened several books, and found nothing that interested her until,
on turning over a slip of paper with pencilled figures upon it, she
discovered a hotel-bill, the heading: Royal Hotel, Falmouth. It was for
a day and night's entertainment, the debtor 'Mr. Crewe,' the date less
than a week gone by. This document she considered attentively, her brows
knitted, her eyes wide. But a sound caused her to drop it upon the desk
again. Another moment, and Crewe entered.

He looked keenly at her, and less good-humouredly than of wont. These
persons never shook hands, and indeed dispensed, as a rule, with all
forms of civility.

'What are you staring at?' asked Crewe bluffly.

'What are _you_ staring at?'

'Nothing, that I know.' He hung up his hat, and sat down. 'I've a note
to write; wait a minute.'

The note written, and given to a clerk, Crewe seemed to recover
equanimity. His visitor told him all that happened in De Crespigny Park,
even to the crudest details, and they laughed together uproariously.

'I'm going to take a flat,' Beatrice then informed him. 'Just find me
something convenient and moderate, will you? A bachelor's flat.'

'What about Fanny?'

'She has something on; I don't know what it is. Talks about going to
Brussels--with a friend.'

Crewe looked astonished.

'You ought to see after her. I know what the end 'll be. Brussels? I've
heard of English girls going there, but they don't usually come back.'

'What can I do? I'm pretty certain that Damerel woman has a game on
hand. She doesn't want Fanny to marry her nephew--if Lord _is_ her
nephew. She wants his money, that's my idea.'

'Mine, too,' remarked the other quietly. 'Look here, old chap, it's your
duty to look after your little damned fool of a sister; I tell you that
plainly. I shan't think well of you if you don't.'

Beatrice displayed eagerness to defend herself. She had done her best;
Fanny scorned all advice, and could not be held against her will.

'Has she given up all thought of Lord?'

'I'm not sure, but I think so. And it looks as if he was going his own
way, and didn't care much. He never writes to her now. Of course it's
that woman's doing.'

Crewe reflected.

'I shall have to look into Mrs. Damerel's affairs. Might be worth while.
Where is she living?' He made a note of the information. 'Well, anything
else to tell me?'

Beatrice spoke of business matters, then asked hi