Cathcart's acceptance from its place in the large safe, and lays it
in the smaller box beside his desk, devoted to more pressing and
immediate business. Two days later Cathcart picks his way across the
slimy yard, passes through the counting-house, and enters his
friend's inner sanctum, closing the door behind him.

He wears a jubilant air, and slaps the grave John on the back. "I've
got her, Jack," he cries. "It's been hard work, I can tell you:
sounding suspicious old dowagers, bribing confidential servants,
fishing for information among friends of the family. By Jove, I
shall be able to join the Duke's staff as spy-in-chief to His
Majesty's entire forces after this!"

"What is she like?" asks John, without stopping his writing.

"Like! My dear Jack, you'll fall over head and ears in love with her
the moment you see her. A little cold, perhaps, but that will just
suit you."

"Good family?" asks John, signing and folding the letter he has
finished.

"So good that I was afraid at first it would be useless thinking of
her. But she's a sensible girl, no confounded nonsense about her,
and the family are poor as church mice. In fact--well, to tell the
truth, we have become most excellent friends, and she told me herself
frankly that she meant to marry a rich man, and didn't much care
whom."

"That sounds hopeful," remarks the would-be bridegroom, with his