The picture painted by the earl was terribly alluring.

He hesitated.

He was lost.

"Mugley," he whispered, hoarsely--"Mugley, I have wronged you. I thought
you were a fortune-hunter. I see you love her. Take her, my boy, and pass
me the brandy."

"Certainly, Mr. Terwilliger," replied the earl, affably. "And then, if
you've no objection, you may pass it back, and I'll join you in a
thimbleful myself."

And then the two men drank each other's health in silence, which was
prolonged for at least five minutes, during which time the earl and his
host both appeared to be immersed in deep thought.

"Come," said Terwilliger at last. "Let us go back to the drawing-room, or
they'll miss us, and, by-the-way, you might speak of that little matter to
Ariadne to-night. It'll help the fall trade to have the engagement
announced."

"I will, Mr. Terwilliger," returned the earl, as they started to leave the
room; "but I say, father-in-law elect," he whispered, catching
Terwilliger's coat sleeve and drawing him back into the office for an
instant, "you couldn't let me have five pounds on account this evening,
could you?"