Mrs. Westerfield’s destination was the public-house in which she had been once employed as a barmaid. Entering the place without hesitation, she sent in her card to the landlord. He opened the parlor door himself and invited her to walk in.

“You wear well,” he said, admiring her. “Have you come back here to be my barmaid again?”

“Do you think I am reduced to that?” she answered.

“Well, my dear, more unlikely things have happened. They tell me you depend for your income on Lord Le Basque — and his lordship’s death was in the newspapers last week.”

“And his lordship’s lawyers continue my allowance.”

Having smartly set the landlord right in those words, she had not thought it necessary to add that Lady Le Basque, continuing the allowance at her husband’s request, had also notified that it would cease if Mrs. Westerfield married again.

“You’re a lucky woman,” the landlord remarked. “Well, I’m glad to see you. What will you take to drink?”

“Nothing, thank you. I want to know if you have heard anything lately of James Bellbridge?”

The landlord was a popular person in his own circle — not accustomed to restrain himself when he saw his way to a joke. “Here’s constancy!” he said. “She’s sweet on James, after having jilted him twelve years ago!”

Mrs. Westerfield replied with dignity. “I am accustomed to be treated respectfully,” she replied. “I wish you good-morning.”

The easy landlord pressed her back into her chair. “Don’t be a fool,” he said; “James is in London — James is staying in my house. What do you think of that?”

Mrs. Westerfield’s bold gray eyes expressed eager curiosity and interest. “You don’t mean that he is going to be barman here again?”

“No such luck, my dear; he is a gentleman at large, who patronizes my house.”

Mrs. Westerfield went on with her questions.

“Has he left America for good?”

“Not he! James Bellbridge is going back to New York, to open a saloon (as they call it) in partnership with another man. He’s in England, he says, on business. It’s my belief that he wants money for this new venture on bad security. They’re smart people in New York. His only chance of getting his bills discounted is to humbug his relations, down in the country.”

“When does he go to the country?”

“He’s there now.”

“When does he come back?”

“You’re determined to see him, it appears. He comes back to-morrow.”

“Is he married?”

“Aha! now we’re coming to the point. Make your mind easy. Plenty of women have set the trap for him, but he has not walked into it yet. Shall I give him your love?”

“Yes,” she said, coolly. “As much love as you please.”

“Meaning marriage?” the landlord inquired.

“And money,” Mrs. Westerfield added.

“Lord Le Basque’s money.”

“Lord Le Basque’s money may go to the Devil!”

“Hullo! Your language reminds me of the time when you were a barmaid. You don’t mean to say you have had a fortune left you?”

“I do! Will you give a message to James?”

“I’ll do anything for a lady with a fortune.”

“Tell him to come and drink tea with his old sweetheart tomorrow, at six o’clock.”

“He won’t do it.”

“He will.”

With that difference of opinion, they parted.