Mr. Newton was writing busily in his private room one foggy afternoon when he was informed that Miss Liddell wished to speak to him.

“Show her in at once,” he said, cheerfully, as if pleased, and he rose to receive her.  “Glad to see you, Miss Liddell, looking all the better for your sojourn by the sea-side.  Why, it must be nearly six months since I saw you.”

“Yes, quite six months, Mr. Newton.  I suppose you have been refreshing yourself too, after the fatigues of the season.  You must try Sandbourne next year.  It is a very nice little place.”

“Sandbourne?  I don’t think I know it.  But now what do you want, my dear young lady?  I don’t suppose you come here merely for pleasure.”

“I assure you it always gives me great pleasure,” said Katherine, with a sweet, sunny smile.  “You have always been my very good friend.”

“Well, a sincere one, at all events,” returned the dry old lawyer, whose aridity was not proof against the charm of his young client.

“I must not waste your time,” she resumed, drawing her chair a little nearer the table behind which he was ensconced.  “I want to buy a house which I have seen, and I want you to attend to all details connected with it.”

“Oh—­ah!  Well, a good house would not be a bad investment; it would be very convenient to have a residence in London.”

“It is not for myself; it is a speculation.”

“A speculation?  What put that into your head?”

Whereupon Katherine told him her story.

“I think it rather a mad undertaking,” was Mr. Newton’s verdict.  “These projects seldom succeed.  I don’t care for clever interesting young women who have no one belonging to them and cannot corroborate their stories.  How do you know she was not dismissed from Blackie & Co.’s for theft?”

Katherine laughed.  “I certainly do not know,” she said, “but I feel it is quite as impossible for her to steal as it is for myself.”

“Feel!—­feel!” (impatiently).  “Just so:  impostors thrive on the good feelings of—­of the simple.”

“You were going to say fools,” said Katherine.  “Don’t let us waste time, my dear Mr. Newton,” she went on, with good-humored decision.  “We shall never agree on such a topic; and I am going to buy this house, or another of the same kind if this proves not to be desirable; and I should be very sorry to employ any one but you to arrange the purchase.”

“Oh, you know your own mind, and how to threaten—­eh, Miss Liddell?” he returned, with a smile.  “I must know more about the tenement before I can consent to act for you.”

“It is an ordinary three-storied house, with a couple of rooms built out at the back, in a small street where there are a few shops; but it is near Westbourne Terrace, and therefore in a region of good customers.  The late owner has been succeeded by a son, who seems very anxious to get rid of it.  The price asked is seven hundred and fifty pounds, and I believe the taxes are under ten pounds.  Do, dear Mr. Newton, look into the matter, and get it settled as soon as possible, and on the best terms you can.”