“On Gilder, in fact?”

“On Gilder,” nodded Arthur gravely, as though the matter had been the subject of deep thought and much self-communion.

And then Dick Alford asked a question that brought the man to his feet, white and shaking.

“Is it the question of the bills?”

“The – the what?” faltered the lawyer.

“The four bills which were supposed to be backed by my brother – the signatures being forgeries. I thought you knew that I had seen them. They were shown to me at the bank, and fortunately I did not disclaim them – fortunately for you, I mean. When I went to see them again they were taken up. I presume Mr Fabrian Gilder redeemed them. That would have cost him a little overm five thousand pounds, and I presume he did not do that out of sheer altruism.”

Arthur Gine’s mouth was dry; he could scarcely articulate.

“I didn’t know until today,” he muttered. “Harry was ill at the time. The money was due to me for – for – legal costs. I went down to the bank to take them up and found they had been honoured.”

“Was that the pull?”

He did not meet the steady gaze that was fixed on him.

“Yes, that was the pull, if you want to know. You don’t suppose I’d allow Leslie to marry a swine like Gilder unless – unless he had something on me, do you? Can’t you understand my position, Alford? I’m ruined! That fellow could send me to gaol – he still can.”

Dick shook his head.

“Fire him tomorrow,” he said. “If he produces the bills I will undertake that Harry will acknowledge the signatures.”

The pink came back to the colourless face of the lawyer. “You’ll do this?” he said eagerly. “My God! you don’t know what a weight you’ve lifted off my mind. You’re a brick, by Jove! I’ll fire him tomorrow.”

He held out an eager hand, and Dick took it with some hesitation. At the best of times Arthur Gine did not impress him; at this moment, almost incoherent with relief, he seemed a pitiful coward.

“I will pay Harry every penny. I have something on the stocks now that will bring me in a fortune, that will wipe out all my debts and put me on my feet again.”

There was humour in the situation; for the thing which was to rehabilitate his fortunes was no less than the barefaced robbery of Harry Chelford’s inheritance! But Arthur was not conscious of the irony of the position. He would deal with Gilder in the morning. Thank God he had not gone still deeper into the mire! The knowledge that in his pocket-book was another bill as yet unuttered did not cool the glow of virtue he was experiencing. Henceforth he would walk the straight way.