“We must find Lucy, or else discover her confidant,”—­looking fixedly at him.

“Not very easy to do,” said he, never once wincing under her scrutiny.

“Not easy for me.  But those that hide can find.  Nothing is beyond search, if one really tries.”

During this cross-examination, Mr. Clamp’s premeditated gallantry had been kept in the background; but he was determined not to let the present opportunity pass by; he therefore turned the current of conversation.

“You have not told me, Mrs. Kinloch, what the loss is; so I cannot judge of its importance.  You don’t wish to have any more repositories of secrets than are necessary; but I think you will readily see that our interests lie in the same direction.  If the girl can be found and the papers recovered by anybody, I am the one to do it.  If that is impossible, however, the next thing is to be prepared for what may happen; in either emergency, you can hardly do better than to accept my aid.”

“Of course, I depend entirely upon you.”

“We may as well understand each other,” said the lawyer, forgetting the wily ways by which he had intended to approach her.  “I have certain views, myself, which I think run parallel with yours; and if I am able to carry you and your property safely through these difficulties, I think you will not scruple to——­

“To pay you to your heart’s content,” she broke in, quickly.  “No, I shall not scruple, unless you ask more than half the estate.”

“I ask for nothing but yourself,” said he, with sudden boldness.

“That is to say, you want the whole of it.”

“Charming woman! don’t, pray, compel me to talk in this language of traffic.  It is you I desire,—­not the estate.  If there is enough to make you more comfortable than would be possible with my means, I shall be happy for your sake.”

Her lips writhed and her eyes shot fire.  Should she breathe the scorn she felt, and brave the worst?  Or should she temporize?  Time might bring about a change, when she could safely send the mercenary suitor back to his dusty and cobwebbed office.

“We do understand each other,” she said, slowly.  “This is a matter to think of.  I had never thought to marry again, and I cannot answer your delicate proposal now.  Let me have a week to consider.”

“Couldn’t we arrange the matter just as well now?  I beg your pardon, Ma’am, if I seem too bold.”

“Oh, your youthful ardor and impetuosity!  To be sure, one must forgive the impatience of a lover in his first passion!  But you must wait, nevertheless.”

Mr. Clamp laughed.  It was a good joke, he thought.

“I must bid you good afternoon, Squire Clamp.  I have made my headache worse by talking on a subject I was not prepared for.”

So Mr. Clamp was bowed out.  He did not clearly understand her quick and subtle movements, but he felt sure of his game in the end.  The scornful irony that had played about him like electricity he had not felt.