“The law on one side, the robbers on the other, and you two alone together!”

“Yes, you understand.  That was the way I felt it.  But we weren’t together, not in every way.  I mean, we were fighting between ourselves too, right up to the very end.”  She gave another low laugh.  “I suppose we’re fighting still; he means to face me with some Radbolt villainy, and make me sorry for what he calls my legalism—­with an epithet!”

“That’s his idea, and my own too, I confess.  Those chief mourners will find the money—­and some other things that’ll make ’em stare.  But they’ll lie low; they’ll sit on the cash till the time comes when it’s safe to dispose of it; and they’ll bilk the Inland Revenue out of the duties.  The remarkable thing is that Beaumaroy seems to want them to do it.”

“That’s to make me sorry; that’s to prove me wrong, Mr. Naylor.”

“It may make you sorry, it makes me sorry, for that matter; but it doesn’t prove you wrong.  You were right.  My boy Alec would have taken the same line as you did.  Now you needn’t laugh at me, Mary.  I own up at once; that’s my highest praise.”

“I know it is; and it implies a contrast?”

Old Naylor unclasped his hands and spread them in a deprecatory gesture.  “It must do that,” he acknowledged.

Mary gave a rebellious little toss of her head.  “I don’t care if it does, Mr. Naylor!  Mr. Beaumaroy is my friend now.”

“And mine.  Moreover I have such confidence in his honor and fidelity that I have offered him a rather important and confidential position in my business—­to represent us at one of the foreign ports where we have considerable interests.”  He smiled.  “It’s the sort of place where he will perhaps find himself less trammelled by—­er—­legalism, and with more opportunities for his undoubted gift of initiative.”

“Will he accept your offer?  Will he go?” she asked rather excitedly.

“Without doubt, I think.  It’s really quite a good offer.  And what prospects has he now, or here?”

Mary stretched her hands towards the fire and gazed into it in silence.

“I think you’ll have an offer soon too, and a good one, Doctor Mary.  Irechester was over at our place yesterday.  He’s still of opinion that there was something queer at Tower Cottage.  Indeed he thinks that Mr. Saffron was queer himself, in his head, and that a clever doctor would have found it out.”

“That he himself would, if he’d gone on attending—­”

“Precisely.  But he’s not surprised that you didn’t; you lacked the experience.  Still he thinks none the worse of you for that, and he told me that he has made up his mind to offer you partnership.  Irechester’s a bit stiff, but a very straight fellow.  You could rely on being fairly treated, and it’s a good practice.  Besides he’s well off, and quite likely to retire as soon as he sees you fairly in the saddle.”

“It’s a great compliment.”  Here Mary’s voice sounded quite straightforward and sincere.  An odd little note of contempt crept into it as she added, “And it sounds—­ideal!”