The Prime Minister

had won by her early energies in the pursuit of her then prevailing passion. She had given her money to no lover, had not lost it on racecourses, or in building churches;⁠—nor even had she materially damaged her resources by servants and equipages. At the present time she was still young, and still pretty⁠—though her hair and complexion took rather more time than in the days when she won Sir Florian Eustace. She still liked a lover⁠—or perhaps two⁠—though she had thoroughly convinced herself that a lover may be bought too dear. She could still ride a horse, though hunting regularly was too expensive for her. She could talk religion if she could find herself close to a well-got-up clergyman⁠—being quite indifferent as to the denomination of the religion. But perhaps a wild dash for a time into fast vulgarity was what in her heart of hearts she liked best⁠—only that it was so difficult to enjoy that pleasure without risk of losing everything. And then, together with these passions, and perhaps above them all, there had lately sprung up in the heart of Lady Eustace a desire to multiply her means by successful speculation. This was the friend with whom Lopez had lately become intimate, and by whose aid he hoped to extricate himself from some of his difficulties.

Poor as he was he had contrived to bribe Mrs. Leslie by handsome presents out of Bond Street;⁠—for, as he still lived in Manchester Square, and was the undoubted son-in-law of Mr. Wharton, his credit was not altogether gone. In the giving of these gifts no purport was, of course, named, but Mrs. Leslie was probably aware that her good word with her friend was expected. “I only know what I used to hear from Mrs. Roby,” Mrs. Leslie said to her friend. “He was mixed up with Hunkey’s people, who roll in money; Old Wharton wouldn’t have given him his daughter if he had not been doing well.”

“It’s very hard to be sure,” said Lizzie Eustace.

“He looks like a man who’d know how to feather his own nest,” said Mrs. Leslie. “Don’t you think he’s very handsome?”

“I don’t know that he’s likely to do the better for that.”

“Well; no; but there are men of whom you are sure, when you look at them, that they’ll be successful. I don’t suppose he was anything to begin with, but see where he is now!”

“I believe you are in love with him, my dear,” said Lizzie Eustace.

“Not exactly. I don’t know that he has given me any provocation. But I don’t see why a woman shouldn’t be in love with him if she likes. He is a deal nicer than those fair-haired men who haven’t got a word to say to you, and yet look as though you ought to jump down their mouths;⁠—like that fellow you were trying to talk to last night;⁠—that Mr. Fletcher. He could just jerk out three words at a time, and yet he was proud as Lucifer. I like a man who if he likes me is neither ashamed nor afraid to say so.”

“There is a romance there, you know. Mr. Fletcher was in love with Emily Wharton, and she threw him over for Lopez. They say he has not held up his head since.”

“She was quite right,” said Mrs. Leslie. “But she is one of those stiff-necked creatures who are set up with pride though they have nothing to be proud of. I suppose she had a lot of money. Lopez would never have taken her without.”

When, therefore, Lopez called one day at the little house in the little street he was not an unwelcome visitor. Mrs. Leslie was in the drawing-room, but soon left it after his arrival. He had of late been often there, and when he at once introduced the subject on which he was himself intent it was not unexpected. “Seven thousand five hundred pounds!” said Lizzie, after listening to the proposition which he had come to make. “That is a very large sum of money!”

“Yes;⁠—it’s a large sum of money. It’s a large affair. I’m in it to rather more than that, I believe.”

“How are you to get people to drink it?” she asked after a pause.

“By telling them that they ought to drink it. Advertise it. It has become a certainty now that if you will only advertise sufficiently you may make a fortune by selling anything. Only the interest on the money expended increases in so large a ratio in accordance with the magnitude of the operation! If you spend a few hundreds in advertising you throw them away. A hundred thousand pounds well laid out makes a certainty of anything.”

“What am I to get to show for my money;⁠—I mean immediately, you know?”

“Registered shares in the Company.”

“The Bios Company?”

“No;⁠—we did propose to call ourselves Parker and Co., limited. I think we shall change the name. They will probably use my name. Lopez and Co., limited.”

“But it’s all for Bios?”

“Oh yes;⁠—all for Bios.”

“And it’s to come from Central Africa?”

“It will be rectified in London, you know. Some English spirit will perhaps be mixed. But I must not tell you the secrets of the trade till you join us. That Bios is distilled from the bark of the Duffer-tree is a certainty.”

“Have you drank any?”

“I’ve tasted it.”

“Is it nice?”

“Very nice;⁠—rather sweet, you know, and will be the better for mixing.”

“Gin?” suggested her ladyship.

“Perhaps so⁠—or whisky. I think I may say that you can’t do very much better with your money. You know I would not say this to you were it not true. In such a matter I treat you just as if⁠—as if you were my sister.”

“I know how good you are⁠—but seven thousand five hundred! I couldn’t raise so much as that just at present.”

“There are to be six shares,” said Lopez, “making £45,000 capital. Would you consent to take a share jointly with me? That would be three thousand seven hundred and fifty.”

“But you have a share