Rosamund Larne was one of those precarious ladies who make uncertain incomes by writing full-bodied storyettes.  In the most dismal circumstances she enjoyed a buoyancy bordering on the indecent; which always amused old Heythorp’s cynicism.  But of his grandchildren Phyllis and Jock (wild as colts) he had become fond.  And this chance of getting six thousand pounds settled on them at a stroke had seemed to him nothing but heaven-sent.  As things were, if he “went off”—­and, of course, he might at any moment, there wouldn’t be a penny for them; for he would “cut up” a good fifteen thousand to the bad.  He was now giving them some three hundred a year out of his fees; and dead directors unfortunately earned no fees!  Six thousand pounds at four and a half per cent., settled so that their mother couldn’t “blue it,” would give them a certain two hundred and fifty pounds a year-better than beggary.  And the more he thought the better he liked it, if only that shaky chap, Joe Pillin, didn’t shy off when he’d bitten his nails short over it!

Four evenings later, the “shaky chap” had again appeared at his house in Sefton Park.

“I’ve thought it over, Sylvanus.  I don’t like it.

“No; but you’ll do it.”

“It’s a sacrifice.  Fifty-four thousand for four ships—­it means a considerable reduction in my income.”

“It means security, my boy.”

“Well, there is that; but you know, I really can’t be party to a secret commission.  If it came out, think of my name and goodness knows what.”

“It won’t come out.”

“Yes, yes, so you say, but—­”

“All you’ve got to do’s to execute a settlement on some third parties that I’ll name.  I’m not going to take a penny of it myself.  Get your own lawyer to draw it up and make him trustee.  You can sign it when the purchase has gone through.  I’ll trust you, Joe.  What stock have you got that gives four and a half per cent.?”

“Midland”

“That’ll do.  You needn’t sell.”

“Yes, but who are these people?”

“Woman and her children I want to do a good turn to.”  What a face the fellow had made!  “Afraid of being connected with a woman, Joe?”

“Yes, you may laugh—­I am afraid of being connected with someone else’s woman.  I don’t like it—­I don’t like it at all.  I’ve not led your life, Sylvanus.”

“Lucky for you; you’d have been dead long ago.  Tell your lawyer it’s an old flame of yours—­you old dog!”

“Yes, there it is at once, you see.  I might be subject to blackmail.”

“Tell him to keep it dark, and just pay over the income, quarterly.”

“I don’t like it, Sylvanus—­I don’t like it.”

“Then leave it, and be hanged to you.  Have a cigar?”

“You know I never smoke.  Is there no other way?”

“Yes.  Sell stock in London, bank the proceeds there, and bring me six thousand pounds in notes.  I’ll hold ’em till after the general meeting.  If the thing doesn’t go through, I’ll hand ’em back to you.”