his appearance.

This was the position of the parties on Mr. Flint's entrance.

The merchant gave the lawyer three bony fingers, bestowed a stiff,
surprised bow on Mortimer, and glanced suspiciously around him, evidently
not liking the company he was in.

Mr. Flint glanced inquiringly at the lawyer.

"As all the parties concerned in this meeting are present," commenced the
devotee of Blackstone, "I will at once proceed to business. You are too
much of a business man, Mr. Flint, to require a prelude to interrogations
which will explain themselves."

Mr. Flint looked very doubtful.

The lawyer ran his fingers through a crop of shaggy hair with professional
dignity.

"It is something over twenty years since your brother, Henry Flint, died,
is it not?"

The merchant nodded.

"He left no heirs--I believe," continued the lawyer, with a delightful
appearance of hesitation.

"He left one child," said Flint, nervously. Mr. Flint did not like the turn
which the conversation was taking.

"Ah, yes! A daughter, if I remember correctly. Let me see, Maude Flint was
the name."

(This slight dialogue caused Daisy's breath to come and go quickly.)

"Maude Flint!" she whispered hastily to Mortimer. "Listen! M. F.,--the
initials in the necklace!"

"I drew up the will at the time," said Mr. Burbank, thoughtfully; "but my
memory has been tasked with more important things."

He turned abruptly to Mr. Flint.

"What became of this child--Maude?"

"Died," returned Flint, briefly, with an uncomfortable air.

"And the property----?"

"Came to me--the child having no other relative," said Flint, rallying.

The lawyer was silent for a moment.

"Now, Mr. Flint, suppose I should tell you that your brother's child is
still living, what would you say?"

"I should say, sir," cried the startled merchant, springing to his feet, "I
should say, sir, that it was a lie! I see through it all. This is a
miserable conspiracy to force money from me. Your plot, sir, is
transparent, and I see that snaky individual crawling at the bottom of it."
He pointed at Mortimer. "But it won't do!" he thundered, "it _won't_ do!"

"Of course it won't for you to get in a passion. The man who gets into a
passion," continued Mr. Burbank, philosophically, "never acts with
judgment. And what is the use, Mr. Flint? I am acquainted with all the
circumstances of the child's disappearance; indeed, I have a full account
of them in your own handwriting."