"Oh, well," sighed Thacker, "I won't argue. But one thing is certain, Jephson. You can't go back to England now. Your place is in San Marco with one hand on the rope that rings the wedding bells."
Jephson shook his great bald head.
"No," he said. "I must return to-day. It is absolutely necessary. My interests in San Marco are in the hands of Providence."
Mr. Thacker walked the floor wildly.
"Providence needs help in handling a woman," he protested. "Miss Meyfick must not change her mind. Some one must see that she doesn't. If you can't go yourself—" He paused, reflecting. "Some young man, active, capable—"
Mr. Richard Minot had risen from his chair and was moving softly toward his overcoat. Looking over his shoulder, he beheld Mr. Thacker's keen eyes upon him.
"Just going out to lunch," he said guiltily.
"Sit down, Richard," remarked Mr. Thacker with decision.
Mr. Minot sat, the dread of something impending in his heart.
