Larne, or better--old Pillin himself. The point to
ascertain was whether she had any connection of her own with Pillin.
Clearly young Pillin didn't know of it; for, according to him, old
Heythorp had made the settlement. By Jove! That old rascal was deep--all
the more satisfaction in proving that he was not as deep as C. V. To
unmask the old cheat was already beginning to seem in the nature of
a public service. But on what pretext could he visit Pillin? A
subscription to the Windeatt almshouses! That would make him talk in
self-defence and he would take care not to press the request to the
actual point of getting a subscription. He caused himself to be driven
to the Pillin residence in Sefton Park. Ushered into a room on the
ground floor, heated in American fashion, Mr. Ventnor unbuttoned his
coat. A man of sanguine constitution, he found this hot-house atmosphere
a little trying. And having sympathetically obtained Joe Pillin's
reluctant refusal--Quite so! One could not indefinitely extend one's
subscriptions even for the best of causes!--he said gently:
"By the way, you know Mrs. Larne, don't you?"
The effect of that simple shot surpassed his highest hopes.
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