They both turned their heads to watch it come
into view. It was an insignificant affair of an almost extinct
pattern, a single cylinder machine with a round tonneau back.
The engine was knocking badly as the driver brought it to a
standstill a few yards away from them. Involuntarily Tavernake
stiffened as he saw the two men who descended from it, and who
were already passing through the gate close to where they were.
One was Mr. Dowling, the other the manager of the bank where they
kept their account. Mr. Dowling recognized his manager with
surprise but much cordiality.
"Dear me!" he exclaimed. "Dear me, this is most fortunate! You
know Mr. Tavernake, of course, Belton? My manager, Mr. Tavernake
--Mr. Belton, of the London & Westminster Bank. I have brought
Mr. Belton up here, Tavernake, to have a look round, so that he
may know what we mean to do with all the money we shall have to
come and borrow, eh?"
The bank manager smiled.
"It is a very fine situation," he remarked.
The eyes of the two men fell upon Beatrice, who had drawn a
little to one side.
"May we have the pleasure, Tavernake? "Mr. Dowling said,
graciously. "You are not married, I believe?"
"No, this is my sister," Tavernake answered, slowly,--"Mr. Belton
and Mr. Dowling."
The two men acknowledged the salute with some slight surprise.
Beatrice, although her clothes were simple, had always the air of
belonging to a different world.
"Your brother, my dear Miss Tavernake," Mr.
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