from whom they would inherit. Chelubai assured me that he was proving himself a hustler at philanthropy, but he complained bitterly that he was being balked by a great deal of callous indifference to the crying needs of Humanity.
One morning an advertisement in the Times caught my eye. It ran: "£100 reward. Lost, a small black bag containing papers of no use to any one but the owner. Any one bringing the same to A. Amsted Pudleigh, Esquire, 209B Old Jewry, E. C., will receive the above reward."
The advertisement reminded me somewhat sharply that I had been neglecting Angel's interest in the Quorley Granite Company. I had no very great desire to establish her in the position of heiress, and risk breaking our pleasant relationship; but there was no getting away from the duty, and, taking with me the transfer of her shares to Albert Amsted Pudleigh, I bent my steps to Lincoln's Inn Fields.
I found Morton at work, and after I had talked with him a while of other matters, I said: "By the way, in the matter of the Quorley Granite Company, are you sure that the forty thousand shares of Miss Pavis which her idiot guardian sold to Pudleigh are worth any more than the £200 he gave for them?"
"Well," said Morton, "her father drew two thousand a year out of it for a good many years.
