Merton at once had a surmise, nor was it mistaken.  The usual greetings had scarcely passed, when the girl, with cheeks on fire and eyes aflame, said: 

’Mr. Merton, do you remember a question, rather unconventional, which you put to me at the dinner party you and Mr. Logan gave at the restaurant?’

‘I ought not to have said it,’ said Merton, ’but then it was an unconventional gathering.  I asked if you—­’

’Your words were “Had I a spark of the devil in me?” Well, I have!  Can I—­’

’Turn it to any purpose?  You can, Miss Willoughby, and I shall have the honour to lay the method before you, of course only for your consideration, and under seal of secrecy.  Indeed I was just about to write to you asking for an interview.’

Merton then laid the circumstances in which he wanted Miss Willoughby’s aid before her, but these must be reserved for the present.  She listened, was surprised, was clearly ready for more desperate adventures; she came into his views, and departed.

‘Jephson has played the game off his own bat—­and won it,’ thought Merton to himself.  ’What a very abject the fellow is!  But, after all, I have disentangled Miss Willoughby; she was infinitely too good for the man, with his squint.’

As Merton indulged in these rather Pharisaical reflections, Mrs. Nicholson was announced.  Merton greeted her, and gave orders that no other client was to be admitted.  He was himself rather nervous.  Was Mrs. Nicholson in a rage?  No, her eyes beamed friendly; geniality clothed her brow.

‘He has squared her,’ thought Merton.

Indeed, the lady had warmly grasped his hand with both of her own, which were imprisoned in tight new gloves, while her bonnet spoke of regardlessness of expense and recent prodigality.  She fell back into the client’s chair.

‘Oh, sir,’ she said, ’when first we met we did not part, or I did not—­you were quite the gentleman—­on the best of terms.  But now, how can I speak of your wise advice, and how much don’t I owe you?’

Merton answered very gravely:  ’You do not owe me anything, Madam.  Please understand that I took absolutely no professional steps in your affair.’

‘What?’ cried Mrs. Nicholson.  ’You did not send down that blessed young man to the Perch?’

’I merely suggested that the inn might suit a person whom I knew, who was looking for country quarters.  Your name never crossed my lips, nor a word about the business on which you did me the honour to consult me.’

‘Then I owe you nothing?’

‘Nothing at all.’

‘Well, I do call this providential,’ said Mrs. Nicholson, with devout enthusiasm.

’You are not in my debt to the extent of a farthing, but if you think I have accidentally been—­’

‘An instrument?’ said Mrs. Nicholson.

’Well, an unconscious instrument, perhaps you can at least tell me why you think so.  What has happened?’