"Yes, he has one, I think I may say two friends now who will
see to that. I'm one of the two—and I think I'm speaking to the
other," I said, quietly. "And between us we ought to do something.
But he's as proud as Lucifer, and a mere hint that we were at the
back of anything of the kind would make him kick."
"If poor A.B.C. were alive——"
"Then, my dear Mrs. Curwen, you would never have been in
Madrid, and would never have known Mayhew." She shrugged her
shapely shoulders, smiled, and then said with unusual earnestness:
"And will you really let me help you in trying to get him a step or
two up the ladder?"
"I mean to have him in London, and to make the people at
home understand that he has a head on his shoulders fit for better
things. Why, if Silas only had money to back his brains, there's
nothing he might not do or be. But there, I've finished my
breakfast!" I exclaimed, getting up from the table, thinking I had
said enough. "And now, where is Mercy?"
"Will you shake hands on that bargain, Lord Glisfoyle?" she
asked, her eyes bright with the thoughts I knew I had started. We
shook hands gravely, as became such a compact, and I looked
straight into her eyes, as I said in as earnest a tone as hers: "The
woman who marries Silas Mayhew will have a husband in a hundred
thousand, true, honest-hearted, straight and good right through.
And now, where is Mercy?" She returned my look, coloured slightly,
and some reply sprang to her lips, but she checked it, and turning
away, said: "Sebastian Quesada's sister came here, and the two girls
are closeted together, waiting for you."
"And you have kept me here all this time!" I cried.