han enough to live on for a much
longer period."

Robert laughed pleasantly. It was the first token of returning confidence.
He reached for a cigar, and sought Margaret's permission to smoke.

"My dear girl," he answered, "I am really a very unfortunate person. I own
a hundred thousand acres of the best land in South America, and I have
been in England nearly two years trying to raise capital to develop it. If
I owned a salted reef or an American brewery I could have got the money
for the asking. Because my stock-raising proposition is a sound paying
concern, requiring a delay of at least three years before a penny of
profit can be realised, I have worn my boots out in climbing up and down
office stairs to no purpose. Out of your L500, nearly L400 went out at
once to pay arrears of Government taxation to save my property. Of the
remaining hundred I spent fifty in a fortnight on dinners and suppers
given to a gang of top-hatted scoundrels, who, I found subsequently, were
not worth a red cent. They hoped to fleece me in some way, and their very
association discredited me in the eyes of one or two honest men. Oh, I
have had a bad time of it, I can assure you!"

"Why did you not write to me again?"

He looked at her steadily before he explained:

"Because you are a woman."

"What has that got to do with it? I am your relative, and rich. How much
do you want? If your scheme is really sound, I imagine my solicitors might
sanction my co-operation."

Again he hesitated.

"Thank you, Rita. You are a good sort. But I am not here on a matter of
high finance. I want you to lend me, say, L250. I will return to the
Argentine, and take twenty years to accomplish what I could do in five
with the necessary capital."

"Come and see me in the morning. The sum you name is absurdly small, in
any case. Perhaps Mr. Brett will accompany you. His advice will be useful
to both of us. Come early. I leave here to-morrow."

"Going away! Where to?"

"To Whitby, in Yorkshire."

"Well, that is curious," said Robert, who clearly did not like to question
her about her husband.

"Mr. Capella is in Naples," she added. "I cannot say when he will return."

Her cousin's look was eloquent of his thoughts. He did not like the
Italian, for some inexplicable reason, for to Margaret's knowledge they
had never met.

The barrister naturally did not interfere in this family conclave. He
listened intently, and had already drawn several inferences f