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"It would appear," sneered Deveril, "that you remain well contented with yourself!"

"Like the rest of humanity—he, she, and it!" said Timber-Wolf equably. "And so much for friendly chatter. Now a word whispered in your pretty ear, since the Lord knoweth how many busybodies are straining their own ears to listen-in on us."

Lynette, in the hallway, stiffened and felt her face grow hot. But, with a strange new-born stubbornness, she remained where she was.

Timber-Wolf came a step closer to Deveril, and, lowering his voice so that Lynette lost the words, he muttered:

"I am under obligations to you, my dear kinsman, and since there is a tough crowd in town, any man of whom would whack you over the head for a handful of silver, I am keeping this between us." He took his wallet from his pocket the second time, and drew from it several bank-notes. These he proffered to Deveril, his eyes still bright with his cold mirth.

"Count it and stick it in your jeans," he said softly. "There's your three thousand. With it is another three thousand, the double of the bet which I promised you. And with that is another two thousand, which is a gain of ten per cent for you for six years, all rough figuring. In all eight thousand in coin of the realm ... and I'm much obliged," he ended mockingly, "for your generous loan!"