"And you can be quite certain that in a very little while we need not trouble our active wits any further as to the wherewithal to enjoy life. I have thought this idea out in all its bearings. It simply can't fail. Come, let us drink to a glorious future."
He reached for a decanter, but a sudden knock at the door jarred the nerves of both men considerably.
"See who is there," whispered Grenier, whose face showed white through the paint and grease it bore.
"What about you in that rigout?" growled the stronger ruffian.
"I will slip into my bedroom. Quick! See who it is."
"In his room; he will be here in a moment. What's the matter? You look pretty glum."
"I've had a piece of wretched luck. I was at Mrs. Atherley's 'At Home' to-day, when Anson turned up. I met him without winking, but he knew me at once. He called me outside and treated me like a dog."
"Yes. It was no good trying to bluff him. Only on the guarantee that I would never meet Miss Atherley again would he consent not to expose me. I'm done. My last chance is gone. I have wasted my money on Grenier's mad notions, and was fool enough to think you meant what you said when you swore to have Anson's life."
Grenier, who had heard every word, reappeared.
"Does Philip Anson know that Mr. James Crichton Langdon is Sir Philip Morland's stepson?" he asked.
"I can't tell. What does it matter, anyhow?"
"Think, man, think! Does he even know your name?"
"Not he. This young spark has a fine sense of honor. You promised to keep away from the lady in future. He will never even mention you. And your money is not lost. It has been well spent, every farthing. Take care Miss Evelyn does not see you until she is heartbroken about Philip Anson. She will be; you can be quite sure of it. Then your opportunity will come."
Philip walked on roses during those glorious days. He had found his mate. His life was complete. How bright the world, and how fair the future.
The only disagreeable incident marring the utter joy of existence, and that only for an instant, was his encounter with Langdon at Mrs. Atherley's pretty flat in Mount Street.
Grenier, endowed by nature with an occasional retrospective glimpse of a nobler character, read him correctly, when he said that Anson would never condescend to name the intruder in the presence of the woman he loved.