oney, my Lord."

"Ay, I'll warrant you are always on the safe side of money," replied
Comyn, with a laugh. "What I wish to know, Mr. Dix," he continued, "is
whether you are willing to take my word that this is Mr. Richard Carvel,
the grandson and heir of Lionel Carvel, Esquire, of Carvel Hall in
Maryland?"

"I am your Lordship's most obedient servant," said Mr. Dix.

"Confound you, sir! Can you or can you not answer a simple question?"

Mr. Dix straightened. He may have spoken elsewhere of asserting his
dignity.

"I would not presume to doubt your Lordship's word."

"Then, if I were to be personally responsible for such sums as Mr. Carvel
may need, I suppose you would be willing to advance them to him."

"Willingly, willingly, my Lord," said Mr. Dix, and added immediately:
"Your Lordship will not object to putting that in writing? Merely a
matter of form, as your Lordship knows, but we men of affairs are held to
a strict accountability."

Comyn made a movement of disgust, took up a pen and wrote out the
indorsement.

"There," he said. "You men of affairs will at least never die of
starvation."

Mr. Dix took the paper with a low bow, began to shower me with
protestations of his fidelity to my grandfather's interests, which were
one day to be my own,--he hoped, with me, not soon,--drew from his pocket
more than sufficient for my immediate wants, said that I should have more
by a trusty messenger, and was going on to clear himself of his former
neglect and indifference, when Banks announced:

"His honour, Mr. Manners!"

Comyn and I exchanged glances, and his Lordship gave a low whistle. Nor
was the circumstance without its effect upon Mr. Dix. With my knowledge
of the character of Dorothy's father I might have foreseen this visit,
which came, nevertheless, as a complete surprise. For a moment I
hesitated, and then made a motion to show him up. Comyn voiced my
decision.

"Why let the little cur stand in the way?" he said; "he counts for
nothing."

Mr. Marmaduke was not long in ascending, and tripped into the room as Mr.
Dix backed out of it, as gayly as tho' he had never sent me about my
business in the street. His clothes, of a cherry cut velvet, were as ever
a little beyond the fashion, and he carried something I had never before
seen, then used by the extreme dandies in London,--an umbrella.

"What! Richard Carvel! Is it possible?" he screamed in his piping
voice. "We mourned you for dead, and here y