In the dead of night she awakened her husband.

"Joe," she said, "is it true that you know another girl who would do
this for you?"

"More than one, Lotty," he replied, this man of resource, although he
was only half awake. "More than one. A great many more. Half-a-dozen,
I know, at least."

She was silent. Half an hour afterward she woke him up again.

"Joe," she said, "I've made up my mind. You sha'n't say that I refused
to do for you what any other girl in the world would have done."

As a tempter it will be seen that Joe was unsurpassed.

It was now a week since he had received, carefully wrapped in wool,
and deposited in a wooden box dispatched by post, a key, newly made.
It was, also, very nearly a week since he had used that key. It was
used during Mr. Emblem's hour for tea, while James waited and watched
outside in an agony of terror. But Joe did not find what he wanted.
There were in the safe one or two ledgers, a banker's book, a
check-book, and a small quantity of money. But there were not any
records at all of monies invested. There were no railway certificates,
waterwork shares, transfers, or notes of stock, mortgages, loans, or
anything at all. The only thing that he saw was a roll of papers tied
up with red tape. On the roll was written: "For Iris. To be given to
her on her twenty-first birthday."