“It was naturally my intention that he should succeed me in my business,

but he was not of a business turn. He was wild, wayward, and, to speak the

truth, I could not trust him in the handling of large sums of money. When he

was young he became a member of an aristocratic club, and there, having

charming manners, he was soon the intimate of a number of men with long purses

and expensive habits. He learned to play heavily at cards and to squander money

on the turf, until he had again and again to come to me and implore me to give

him an advance upon his allowance, that he might settle his debts of honour. He

tried more than once to break away from the dangerous company which he was

keeping, but each time the influence of his friend, Sir George Burnwell, was

enough to draw him back again.


“And, indeed, I could not wonder that such a man as Sir George Burnwell

should gain an influence over him, for he has frequently brought him to my

house, and I have found myself that I could hardly resist the fascination of

his manner. He is older than Arthur, a man of the world to his finger-tips, one

who had been everywhere, seen everything, a brilliant talker, and a man of

great personal beauty. Yet when I think of him in cold blood, far away from the

glamour of his presence, I am convinced from his cynical speech and the look

which I have caught in his eyes that he is one who should be deeply distrusted.

So I think, and so, too, thinks my little Mary, who has a woman’s quick

insight into character.


“And now there is only she to be described. She is my niece; but when my

brother died five years ago and left her alone in the world I adopted her, and

have looked upon her ever since as my daughter. She is a sunbeam in my

house—sweet, loving, beautiful, a wonderful manager and housekeeper, yet

as tender and quiet and gentle as a woman could be. She is my right hand. I do

not know what I could do without her. In only one matter has she ever gone