He pulled the phone towards him now and called furiously for a number. It was twenty past nine; most of the staff of the bank would be there. When the call was answered: “I am Mr Gilder,” he said quickly. “Is the manager there?… No? Then the assistant manager will do. It is very urgent.”

He waited whilst the clerk went to investigate. Presently he heard the voice of a man he knew – the manager himself.

“I just came in at this moment. Is anything wrong?”

“Fletcher, do you remember my telling you that I should be sending down a cheque for fifty thousand pounds and asking you to honour it?”

“Yes; I honoured it.”

For a second Gilder was speechless.

“You honoured it? Who presented the cheque?”

“Arthur Gine – it was made out in his favour – payable to bearer. I notified you last night; didn’t you get my letter?”

“I haven’t opened all my post yet,” said Gilder steadily. “Thank you.”

He hung up the receiver, breathing heavily. For now he remembered clearly every event of the morning: the coming of Arthur Gine, and his seemingly absurd proposal, that Gilder should write a note expressing his willingness to lend the money. That was the trick of it! Not only had Arthur got the fifty thousand, but with that letter he had a complete answer to any charge of fraud.

He sat with clasped hands, every vein on his forehead swollen, and murder in his heart. Tricked! And she should know. She had been a party to the fraud – unwittingly perhaps, but nevertheless a party. She must have told him of this money.

Whatever else he was, Fabrian Gilder had the gift of clear thinking. Five minutes’ riotous fury, and he was his cold self again. Of course she couldn’t have helped in the fraud. It was the accident of leaving the safe unlocked, and Arthur Gine’s known inquisitiveness – he could never resist reading even Gilder’s private letters; Arthur had no sense of other people’s privacy.

What could he do now? He thought the matter out. He must tell the girl, and perhaps she would regard herself as being under an obligation to him. If she had any sense of honour she must fulfil her promise, whatever she had written in her letter that morning.

He telephoned for his car to be brought round from the garage, and came back to his breakfast table and made an attempt to eat.

He would try Leslie first, telling her nothing about the letter he had given to her brother, and threaten him with a warrant for fraud. Perhaps this strengthened rather than weakened his position. He grew cheerful as the thought took shape.