“Very good,” replied Hale, nursing his silk hat on his knee.  “I see you don’t offer me coffee or a cigarette.”

“We are not friends, sir.  And let me remind you that you thrust yourself uninvited on me.”

“To do you a service,” said Hale quickly.  “I think, therefore, that I deserve a better reception.”

“Will you please come to the point?” said Mallow coldly, “whatever the service may be, I am quite sure it is two for you if one for me.  You are not the man to go out of your way, Mr. Hale, to help anyone.”

Hale nodded and smiled grimly.  “You are quite right.  Now, then, Mr. Mallow, do you know that Basil Saxon was to have inherited the money of my late client, Miss Loach?”

“No, I never knew that.  I understood that Miss Loach always intended to leave the money to Miss Saxon.”

Hale shook his well-oiled head.  “On the contrary, Mr. Saxon was her favorite.  In spite of his wild ways she liked him.  However, she was also fond of Miss Saxon, and you may thank Miss Loach, Mr. Mallow, for having been the means of forwarding your engagement.”

“What do you mean by that?” asked Cuthbert angrily.

“Mrs. Octagon,” went on the lawyer deliberately, “would never have consented to Miss Saxon becoming engaged to you had not Miss Loach insisted that she should agree.”

“Seeing that Mrs. Octagon hated her sister and was not likely, to be influenced by her, I do not see how that can be.”

“Perhaps not.  Nevertheless, such is the case.  You saw how, when Miss Loach died, Mrs. Octagon seized the first opportunity to place obstacles in the way of your marriage.”

“I believe she did that on Maraquito’s account, Mr. Hale.  I know perfectly well that Mrs. Octagon called on Maraquito.”

“Quite so—­to ask Maraquito not to let Basil Saxon play beyond his means.  Certainly, Maraquito having a strange fancy for you, agreed, on condition that Mrs. Octagon refuse to let Miss Saxon marry you.  But, in any case, Mrs. Octagon hates your uncle too much to allow her daughter to become your wife.  You will never get Mrs. Octagon’s consent unless I help you.”

“You!” echoed Mallow, astonished and annoyed.  “What possible influence can you have with Mrs. Octagon.  I have certainly seen you at her house, but I scarcely think you know her well enough—­”

“Oh, yes, I do.”  Hale rose in his earnestness.  “See here, sir; I love Maraquito and I wish to marry her.”

“You can, so far as I am concerned,”

“So you say,” said Hale bitterly, “but you cannot be ignorant that Maraquito loves you.”

“I don’t see what that has to do with our conversation,” replied Mallow, growing red and restless.

“It has everything to do with the matter.  I want to marry Maraquito, as I am rich and deeply in love with her.  She would have become my wife long ago but that you crossed her path.  Lord knows why she should love a commonplace man like you, but she does.”