want? And yet—there was something in what that devil Parrawhite had urged.
For there was a risk—however small—of discovery, and if discovery were made, there would be a nice penalty to pay. It might, after all, be better to sell the will outright—for as much ready money as ever he could get, and to take his gains far away, and start out on a career elsewhere. After all, there was much to be said for the old proverb. The only question was—was the bird in hand worth the two; or the money, which he believed he would net in the bush?
Pratt's doubts on this point were settled in a curious fashion. He had reached the centre of the town in his return to Eldrick's, and there, in the fashionable shopping street, he ran up against an acquaintance. He and the acquaintance stopped and chatted—about nothing. And as they lounged on the curb, a smart victoria drew up close by, and out of it, alone, stepped a girl who immediately attracted Pratt's eyes. He watched her across the pavement; he watched her into the shop. And his companion laughed.
"That's the sort!" he remarked flippantly. "If you and I had one each, old man—what?"
"Who is she?" demanded Pratt.
The acquaintance stared at him in surprise.
"What!" he exclaimed. "You don't know. That's Miss Mallathorpe."
"I didn't know," said Pratt. "Fact!"
He waited until Nesta Mallathorpe came out and drove away—so that he could get another and a closer look at her. And when she was gone, he went slowly back to
