"Oh," cried the editor, brightening, "if it is anything to the discredit
of the Board of Public Construction, I am glad you came."

"Well, that's not a bit complimentary to me. You should be glad in any
case; but I'll forgive your bad manners, as I wish you to help me.
Please step into this hansom, because I have most startling intelligence
to impart--news that must not be overheard; and there is no place so
safe for a confidential conference as in a hansom driving through the
streets of London. Drive slowly towards the _Evening Graphite_ office,"
she said to the cabman, pushing up the trap-door in the roof of the
vehicle. Mr. Stoneham took his place beside her, and the cabman turned
his horse in the direction indicated.

"There is little use in going to the office of the paper," said
Stoneham; "there won't be anybody there but the watchman."

"I know, but we must go in some direction. We can't talk in front of
the Cafe Royal, you know. Now, Mr. Stoneham, in the first place, I want
fifty golden sovereigns. How am I to get them within half an hour?"

"Good gracious! I don't know; the banks are all closed, but there is a
man at Charing Cross who would perhaps change a cheque for me; there is
a cheque-book at the office."

"Then that's all right and settled. Mr. Stoneham, there's been some
juggling with the accounts in the office of the Board of Public
Construction."

"What! a defalcation?" cried Stoneham eagerly.