Miss Bewery will honour me with her hand, she'll get a man
whose antecedents will bear the strictest investigation."

"Are you inferring that hers won't?" demanded Ransford.

"I'm not inferring anything," said Bryce. "I am speaking for
myself, of myself. Pressing my own claim, if you like, on
you, the guardian. You might do much worse than support my
claims, Dr. Ransford."

"Claims, man!" retorted Ransford. "You've got no claims!
What are you talking about? Claims!"

"My pretensions, then," answered Bryce. "If there is a
mystery--as Wrychester people say there is--about Miss Bewery,
it would be safe with me. Whatever you may think, I'm a
thoroughly dependable man--when it's in my own interest."

"And--when it isn't?" asked Ransford. "What are you then?--as
you're so candid."

"I could be a very bad enemy," replied Bryce.

There was a moment's silence, during which the two men looked
attentively at each other.

"I've told you the truth," said Ransford at last. "Miss
Bewery flatly refuses to entertain any idea whatever of ever
marrying you. She earnestly hopes that that eventuality may
never be mentioned to her again. Will you give me your word