scarcely have married her in such a secret way. Have you any wish that
she should be found?"

"Yes, I have a fancy for seeing her before I die. She is my own flesh and
blood, like you, and has not injured me as you have. I should like to see
her."

"And if she happened to take your fancy, you would leave her all your
money, I suppose?"

"Who told you that I have money to leave?" cried the old man sharply.
"Have I not said that I am a poor man, hopelessly impoverished by your
extravagance?"

"Bah, my dear father, that is all nonsense. My extravagance is a question
of nearly twenty years ago. If I had swamped all you possessed in those
days--which I don't for a moment believe--you have had ample time to make
a fresh fortune since then. You would never have lived all those years in
Queen Anne's Court, except for the sake of money-making. Why, the place
stinks of money. I know your tricks: buying silver from men who are in
too great a hurry to sell it to be particular about the price; lending
money at sixty per cent, a sixty which comes to eighty before the
transaction is finished. A man does not lead such a life as yours for
nothing. You are rolling in money, and you mean to punish me by leaving
it all to Marian."

The silversmith grew pale with anger during this speech of his son's.

"You are a consummate scoundrel," he said, "and are at liberty to think
what you please. I tell you, once for all, I am as poor as Job. But if I