Jervy rejoined. "When I have got the date, I shall go to a place
near St. Paul's, called Doctors' Commons; I shall pay a shilling fee,
and I shall have the privilege of looking at Mr. Ronald's will."

"And what good will that do you?"

"Very properly put, Phoebe! Even shillings are not to be wasted, in our
position. But my shilling will buy two sixpennyworths of information.
I shall find out what sum of money Mr. Ronald has left to his daughter;
and I shall know for certain whether Mrs. Farnaby's husband has any
power over it, or not."

"Well?" said Phoebe, not much interested so far--"and what then?"

Jervy looked about him. They were in a crowded thoroughfare at the time.
He preserved a discreet silence, until they had arrived at the first
turning which led down a quiet street.

"What I have to tell you," he said, "must not be accidentally heard by
anybody. Here, my dear, we are all but out of the world--and here I can
speak to you safely. I promise you two good things. You shall bring Mrs.
Farnaby to that day of reckoning; and we will find money enough to marry
on comfortably as soon as you like."

Phoebe's languid interest in the subject began to revive: she insisted
on having a clearer explanation than this. "Do you mean to get the money
out of Mr. Farnaby?" she inquired.

"I will have nothing to do with Mr. Farnaby--unless I find that his
wife's money is not at her own disposal. What you heard in the kitchen
has altered all my plans. Wait a minute--and you will see what I am
driving at. How much do you think Mrs. Farnaby would give me, if I found
that lost daughter of hers?"

Phoebe suddenly stood still, and looked at the sordid scoundrel who was
tempting her in blank amazement.

"But nobody knows where the daughter is," she objected.

"You and I know that the daughter has a deformity in her left foot,"
Jervy replied; "and you and I know exactly in what part of the foot it
is. There's not only money to be made out of that knowledge--but money
made easily, without the slightest risk. Suppose I managed the matter by
correspondence, without appearing in it personally? Don't you think
Mrs. Farnaby would open her purse beforehand, if I mentioned the exact
position of that little deformity, as a proof that I was to be depended
on?"

Phoebe was unable, or unwilling, to draw the obvious conclusion, even
now.

"But, what would you do," she said, "when Mrs. Farnaby insisted on
seeing her daughter?"

There w