A Girl of the Commune

by G. A. Henty

  CHAPTER XVIII.

  The next morning Cuthbert drove to Madame Michaud's.

  "You are looking better, Mary," he said, as he entered; "why, you havegot quite a pretty color in your cheeks."

  "Don't talk nonsense, please. I am better, a great deal better, but itis no wonder I have a color, I have been blushing with shame at my ownfolly ever since you were here."

  "If you never do anything more foolish than that, you will get throughlife well enough. Appearances were against me, and you jumped atconclusions a little too fast. Let us say no more about it."

  "You are not looking so well, I think, Cuthbert."

  "No. I have been a little bothered."

  "Have you seen that man Cumming?" she asked, quickly.

  "Yes," he answered, in some surprise, "though what should make youassociate him with my being bothered I don't know."

  "You said that you were going to see him, and somehow, I don't know why,I have been rather worrying over it. Was the interview satisfactory, didyou learn what you wanted?"

  "Not altogether," he said, "but it is all a matter of conjecture, Mary,and I own that it has worried me a bit, and, indeed, I am sorry I wentto him at all. However, as it is business and ladies are not good atbusiness, suppose we talk of something else."

  Mary made no reply, but sat looking at him while she twisted her fingersnervously before her. "May I ask one question, Cuthbert?"

  "Yes, if you like, but I don't promise to answer it?"

  "Do you think that there is any blame attached to my father?"

  Cuthbert was startled. He had certainly not expected this question.

  "What on earth should put that idea into your head, Mary?"

  "I don't know," she replied, "but it has always struck me as so strangethat he should not have prevented Mr. Hartington from buying thoseshares. I don't know much of business, but I have thought a great dealabout it, and it has always seemed a strange affair to me, and I haveworried a great deal over it since he bought the house. That is onereason why I hate going there."

  "Perhaps your father was not quite so prudent in the matter as he mighthave been, Mary," Cuthbert said, trying to speak lightly, though hefound it difficult to do so with the girl's earnest eyes fixed on him,"but even of that I am not sure. Now, suppose we change the subjectagain--it seems that we are to hit on difficult subjects this morning.The gates will probably be opened, at any rate to the foreigners, in aday or two. Are you thinking of going home to prepare yourself fortaking up your vocation as a nurse?"

  "Not yet," she replied, "there is no hurry for that, and it will be sometime before the country is settled."

  "You are sure that you have not changed your mind again?"

  "No, why should I?"

  "I thought perhaps you might have done so, and might possibly beinclined towards the vocation you so scornfully repudiated when Isuggested it before. I intended to ask you yesterday, but it would nothave been fair when you were so weak and shaken."

  The girl had glanced at him and had then flushed hotly.

  "I don't know--I am not sure--what you mean."

  "And I am sure that you know very well, Mary, that I mean the vocationof taking care of me, which you repudiated with scorn--in fact refusedto entertain it seriously at all. Of course there may have been othergrounds, but the one you laid stress on was that I was lazy andpurposeless, and that if you ever did take up such a vocation it wouldbe to take care of some one you could respect. I don't say for aninstant that I approach to that altitude, but at least I may say I am nolonger an idler, that I have worked hard, and that I have every hope ofsuccess. You see, too, that I want you more than I did then. I am a poorartist and not the heir to a good estate. But as you are fond ofsacrificing yourself, that may not be altogether an objection. At anyrate, dear, I think I shall be able to keep you comfortably. I am notsure I should ever have mustered up courage enough to have spoken onthis subject again, had it not been for yesterday. But that gave me alittle hope that you really had come to care about me a little, and thatpossibly you might be willing to change your plans again in my favor."

  "I did not think you really loved me then," she said. "I thought it wasjust a passing fancy."

  "You see it was not, dear. All these months that I have worked hard, itwas partly from the love of art and with the hope that I might be areally great artist, but at the bottom of it all along has been thethought of you and the determination that in one respect I would becomeworthy of you."

  "Don't talk like that, Cuthbert. I know now that I was a headstrong,conceited girl, thinking I was strong when I was as weak as water. Youwere right when you said I was not yet a woman, for I had never foundthat I had a heart. It is I who am unworthy."

  "Well, it is no question of worthiness now. The question is do you loveme as I love you."

  "Are you sure you do, Cuthbert? I have thought all these months that youhad taken me at my word, and that it was but as a friend you regardedme. Are you sure it is not gratitude for what little I did for you inthe hospital! Still more that it is not because I showed my feelings soplainly the day before yesterday, and that it is from pity as well asgratitude that you speak now."

  "Then you were really a little jealous, Mary?"

  "You know I was. It was shameful of me to show it, so shameful that Ihave hated myself since. I know that after doing so, I ought to sayno--no a thousand times. I love you, Cuthbert, I love you; but I wouldrather never marry you than feel it was out of pity that you took me.That would be too hard to bear."

  They were both standing now.

  "You are talking nonsense, child," he said, tenderly, as he took herhand. "You know I love you truly. Surely my pictures must have told youthat. Honestly now, did you not feel that it was so?"

  "I did not know you loved me then, Cuthbert. There were other things,you know, that made me feel it could not be so, but then that for thefirst time I really knew----" and she stopped.

  "That you loved me, darling?" and he drew her closer to him. "Now, yougave me a straightforward answer before--I insist on as straightforwarda one now."

  And this time the answer was not, No.

  "Mind," he said a few minutes afterwards, "your vocation is definitelyfixed at last, Mary, and there must be no more changing."

  "As if you did not know there won't be," she said, saucily. And thensuddenly altering her tone she went on, "Now, Cuthbert, you will surelytell me what you would not before. What did you find out? It issomething about my father, I am sure."

  "Let me think before I answer you," he said, and then sat silent for twoor three minutes. "Well," he said, at last, "I think you have a right toknow. You may be sure that in any case I should before, for your sake,have done everything in my power towards arranging things amicably withhim. Now, of course, that feeling is vastly stronger, and for my ownsake as well as yours I should abstain from any action against him.Mind, at present I have only vague suspicions, but if those suspicionsturn out true, it will be evident that your father has been pursuing avery tortuous policy, to put it no stronger, in order to gain possessionof Fairclose. I cannot say definitely as yet what I shall do, but atpresent I incline to the opinion that I shall drop the matteraltogether."

  "Not for my sake, Cuthbert," she said, firmly. "I have always feltuneasy about it. I can scarcely say why, but I am afraid it is so. Ofcourse I know my father better than people in general do. I have knownthat he was not what he seemed to be. It has always been my soresttrouble, that we have never got on well together. He has never liked me,and I have not been able to respect him. I know that if he has doneanything absolutely wrong--it seems terrible that I should even thinksuch a thing possible--but if it has been so--I know you will not exposehim."

  "We will not talk any more about it, dear," Cuthbert interrupted; "it isall the vaguest suspicion, so let us put it aside altogether now. Justat present I am a great deal too happy to give as much as a thought tounpleasant matters. We have to attend to the business of the hour, andyou have the t
wo years of love of which I have been deprived to make upfor."

  "I am very, very glad, Cuthbert, that I was not in love with you then."

  "Why?"

  "Because we should have started all wrong. I don't think I should everhave come to look up to you and honor you as I do now. I should neverhave been cured of my silly ideas, and might even have thought that Ihad made some sort of sacrifice in giving up my plans. Besides, then youwere what people call a good match, and now no one can think that it isnot for love only."

  "Well, at any rate, Mary, we shall have between us enough to keep us outof the workhouse even if I turn out an absolute failure."

  "You know you won't do that."

  "I hope not, but at any rate one is liable to illness, to loss ofsight, and all sorts of other things, and as we have between us fourhundred a year we can manage very comfortably, even if I come to an endof my ardor for work and take to idleness again."

  "I am not afraid of that," she smiled, "after painting those twopictures, you could not stop painting. I don't think when anyone can dogood work of any sort, he can get tired of it, especially when the workis art. My only fear is that I shan't get my fair share of your time."

  "Well, if I see you getting jealous, Mary, I have the means of reducingyou to silence by a word."

  "Have you, indeed? Will you please tell me what word is that?"

  "I shall just say, Minette!"

  Mary's color flamed up instantly.

  "If you do, sir; if you do----" and then stopped.

  "Something terrible will come of it, eh. Well, it was not fair."

  "It was quite fair, Cuthbert. It will always be a painful recollectionto me, and I hope a lesson too."

  "It will not be a painful recollection to me," he laughed. "I think Iowe Minette a debt of gratitude. Now, what do you say to taking a drive,Mary? Horse-flesh has gone down five hundred per cent. in the market inthe last three days, and I was able to get a fiacre on quite reasonableterms."

  "Is it waiting here still? How extravagant, Cuthbert, it must have beenhere nearly an hour."

  "I should say I have been here over two hours and a quarter according tothat clock."

  "Dear me, what will Madame Michaud think? Shall I tell her, Cuthbert?"

  "I don't care a snap what she thinks. You can do just as you like abouttelling her. Perhaps it will be as well, as I intend to see a good dealof you in the next few days. But if you write home don't say anythingabout it. There are reasons which we can talk over another time, why itwill be best to keep it to ourselves for a time."

  Mary nodded. That he wished a thing was quite sufficient for her at thepresent moment.

  "Do you want me to go out with you?" she asked.

  "Just as you like. I believe that as a rule a ring has to be purchasedat the conclusion of an arrangement such as we have just entered into,and I thought you might just as well chose one yourself."

  "Oh, I would much rather not," she exclaimed, "and besides, I think forto-day I would rather sit quiet and think it all over and realize howhappy I am."

  "Well, for to-day you shall have your own way, Mary, but you have beendoing a good deal more thinking than is good for you, and after to-daywe must go out for a good walk regularly. You see we have both to get upour strength. I had quite forgotten I had anything the matter with me,and you only wanted rousing, dear. The doctor said as much to me, andyou know, after all, happiness is the best tonic."

  "Then I must be perfectly cured already, Cuthbert, but remember you musttake care of yourself. The best of tonics won't set any one up at oncewho has had a real illness as you have had. You want something moresubstantial. Good strong soups and roast beef are the essentials in yourcase. Remember, sir, I have been your nurse and mean to continue so tillyour cure is complete. You will come again to-morrow, Cuthbert?"

  "Of course, dear. Now about that ring. I have observed you never wearone. Have you one you can lend me, or must I measure with a piece ofthread?"

  "I will get you one, Cuthbert. I am not without such a possessionalthough I have never worn one. I looked upon it as a female vanity,"she added, with a laugh, "in the days when I thought myself above suchthings. What a little fool you must have thought me, Cuthbert?"

  The next morning when Cuthbert came Mary had her things on in readinessto go out with him, and after a short delay to admire and try on thering, they set out together.

  "I did not tell you yesterday, Mary," Cuthbert said, after they hadwalked a short distance, "that as soon as the arrangements forforeigners to leave the town are settled, I am going to Brussels withCumming. He is going to make an affidavit, and this he cannot do here,as, if I should have occasion to use the document, it would be the meansof enabling the police to trace him here and to demand his extradition.After that I shall go on to England to make some inquiries that areessential. I will give you all particulars if you wish it, but I thinkit will be very much better that you shall know nothing about thematter; it may turn out to be nothing at all; it may on the other handbe extremely important. It is a painful business anyhow, but in any caseI think it will be much the best that you should know nothing about it.You can trust me, can you not?"

  "Altogether," she said, "and certainly I would rather know nothing aboutit. But mind, Cuthbert, you must do what you think is right and bestwithout any question about me. If you have been wronged you must rightyourself, and I am sure that in doing so you will do it as gently andkindly as possible."

  "I will try to do so," he said. "At present, as I told you, thesuspicions are very vague and rest entirely upon the statement Cumminghas made. If those suspicions should be verified, a great wrong has beendone and that wrong must be righted, but that can no doubt be arrangedwithout publicity or scandal. The reason why I do not wish you to say aword about our engagement is, that were it known it would tie my handsterribly and render it so impossible for me to take any strong ground,that I should be altogether powerless."

  "Do entirely as you think best, Cuthbert. Of course, beyond the factthat perhaps something wrong may have been done, I have not an idea whatit can be, and I do not want to know, unless it must be told me. Howlong are you likely to be away and do you think you are fit to travel?"

  "There is no great fatigue in travelling," he said. "I can't say howlong I shall be, not long I hope. You may be sure that I shall not belonger than I can possibly help."

  "I shall miss you dreadfully, but of course if you think it necessary,you must go. Besides," she said, saucily, "if you are in no hurry aboutme I know you will be anxious to get back to finish your pictures. No,Cuthbert, I really can't have that. There are people in sight."

  "I don't care if there are," he laughed.

  "I do, very much. Whoever heard of such a thing? What would they thinkof me?"

  "I did not know that you cared what people thought of you, Mary."

  "Not about some things, perhaps, but there are limits, you know."

  A week later, duly provided with passes, Cuthbert and Cumming made theirway in a carriage to the Belgian frontier, and then went on by train toBrussels, where, on the day after their arrival, Cumming drew up andsigned a statement with reference to the details of his transference ofthe shares to Mr. Hartington, and swore to its contents before a Belgianlegal official.

  "I shall stay here for a few days," he said to Cuthbert, as the latterstarted the next morning for England. "I am quite safe for the present,and after a long course of horse-flesh I really cannot tear myself awayfrom decent living, until Paris is re-victualled, and one can live therein comfort again. I wish you every success in your search. The more Ithink of it the more convinced I am that we are not far wrong as to themanner in which Brander has got hold of your estate."

  Cuthbert, on arriving in London, took up his quarters at the CharingCross Hotel. On the morning after his arrival he wrote a letter to Dr.Edwardes, at Abchester.

  "MY DEAR DOCTOR,--I have just returned from Paris, where I have been shut up for the last four months. I do not care
about coming down to Abchester at present. I suppose I have not quite got over my soreness over matters in general, but for reasons which I need not enter into, I want to know if Brander's clerks, who were with him when I was last there, are still with him in his office, and, if not, where they are employed. I do not know anyone else to write to on the subject, and I am sure you will not mind taking the trouble in the matter for me."

  The answer came back by return of post.

  "MY DEAR CUTHBERT--I was very glad to hear of you again. I have asked Brander from time to time about you, and he always says that he has not heard from you for months, and though your letter says nothing beyond the fact that you are alive, I was glad to get it. I hope next time you write you will give me full details about yourself, and that ere long you will make up your mind to come down. I need not say that we shall be delighted to put you up when you do come. I should imagine you would not care to go to Fairclose. Now as to your question. Harford, the elder of the two clerks, left the office here very shortly after you went away. Levison, the younger, is still here. I put myself in the way of meeting him as he went to the office this morning. I stopped and chatted with him for a minute or two, and asked him carelessly how Mr. Harford was and whether he ever heard from him. He said he heard occasionally and that he was well. 'By the way, where is he working now?' I asked, 'I know he went up to a firm in town.' 'Oh, yes, he is with Barrington and Smiles, of Essex Street. He is getting on very well there, I believe. He is head of their conveyancing branch. I wish I could drop into as good a billet, Doctor. I should be very glad of a change.' So much for that business. Things are getting on pretty much the same up at the old place. Brander still comes up to his office for an hour or so every day. I don't think he cares much for the county gentleman's life. I fancy Mrs. B. is rather a disappointed woman. The fact is there was a good deal of feeling in the county as to Brander's connection with the bank. Almost everyone was let in more or less, you know, for the depositors have only got eight shillings in the pound so far, and I don't suppose they will ever get much more. There is an idea that Brander ought to have found out what was going on, and indeed that he must have known a good deal about it, and that at any rate what he did know should have been ample to have rendered it his duty to warn your father against taking shares so short a time before the smash. His purchase of Fairclose did not improve matters, and so far from their taking your father's place in the county, I may say without being absolutely cut they are much more out of it than they were before. However, when you come down I will give you all the local gossip."

  It was late in the afternoon when Cuthbert received the letter and he atonce went to Essex Street. Several clerks were writing in the office. Alad came forward to ask him his business.

  "I want to speak for a moment to Mr. Harford."

  The lad went up to one of the desks and the clerk came forward.

  "I don't know whether you remember me," Cuthbert said, "my name isHartington."

  "I remember you very well, Mr. Hartington, though you are changed a gooddeal."

  "I have had a sharp illness, but I am getting over it now. Iparticularly wished to speak to you about a matter in connection with myfather's affairs. I am staying at the Charing Cross Hotel and shouldfeel very much obliged if, when you leave here, you would come round fora few minutes."

  "With pleasure, sir, but I shall not get away till seven."

  "That will do very well," Cuthbert said. "I would not have troubled youhad it not been important."

  A few minutes past seven the clerk was shown into Cuthbert's room. Afterasking him to take a chair Cuthbert said--

  "As you are aware, Mr. Harford, my loss of the Fairclose estates arosefrom the unfortunate circumstances of my father having taken a fewshares in the Abchester and County Bank. The matter has always been apuzzle to me. I have been abroad for the last eighteen months, and now,having returned, am anxious to get to the bottom of the matter if I can.The transfer of the shares from Cumming, the manager of the bank, to myfather, was signed at Mr. Brander's office, I fancy. At any rate, youand Mr. Levison were the attesting witnesses to my father's signature.Have you any memory of the transaction, and would you object to tellwhat took place?"

  "I remember about the transfer, Mr. Hartington, because, when the crashcame, everything connected with it was talked over. In point of fact, wedid not see Mr. Hartington's signature actually attached. He called atthe office one day, and just after he had left Mr. Brander called us inand said, 'Please witness Mr. Hartington's signature.' Of course, weboth knew it very well and witnessed it. I did not notice the names onthe body of the transfer, though, of course, I knew from the appearanceof the document what it was, but Mr. Brander just pointed out where wewere to sign and we signed. The only thing I noticed was that as I wrotemy eye fell on the top line, and I saw that it was dated ten daysearlier."

  "Was that unusual?"

  "No, documents are often dated at the time they are drawn up, althoughthey may not be signed for some days later. Of course it is not exactlyregular, but it often happens. A form is filled up and one or other ofthe parties may be away or unable to sign. I happened to notice it, butit did not strike me in any way."

  "And were you often called upon to attest signatures in this way withoutseeing them written?"

  "There was nothing unusual in it. As a general rule we were called intothe room when a signature had to be witnessed, but it occasionallyhappened, in the case where it was a well-known client and we wereperfectly acquainted with the signature, that we did not sign until hehad left the office."

  "Do you remember if such a thing ever happened any other time in thecase of my father!"

  "Only once, I think, and that was afterwards. We signed then aswitnesses to his signature to a legal document. I don't know what itsnature was. It was done in the same manner directly Mr. Hartington haddriven away."

  "It might have been a mortgage deed."

  "It might have been, sir, but as I saw only the last page of it, and asthere were but three or four lines of writing at the top of the page,followed by the signatures, I have no idea even of the nature of thedocument."

  "May I ask if you have left the office at Abchester on pleasant termswith Mr. Brander and his partner, for, of course, you know that he stilltakes an interest in the firm."

  "Oh, yes, it is still carried on as Brander and Jackson, and Branderstill goes down there for an hour or two every day. Yes, I left onpleasant terms enough, that is to say, I left of my own free will. I hadfor some time wished to come up to London, and hearing through a friendin this office of a vacancy at Barrington and Smiles, I applied and wasfortunate enough to get it."

  Cuthbert sat silent for a time. So far the answers he had receivedtallied precisely with Cumming's theory. He did not see how he couldcarry the inquiry farther here at present. The clerk, who was watchinghim closely, was the first to speak.

  "I own, Mr. Hartington, that I do not in the slightest degree understandthe gist of your questions, but I can well imagine that at the presentmoment you are wondering whether it would be safe to ask farther. Iwill, therefore, tell you at once that one of my reasons for leaving Mr.Brander's employment was that I did not like his way of doing business,nor did I like the man himself. The general opinion of him was that hewas a public-spirited and kind-hearted man. I can only say that ouropinion of him in the office was a very different one. He was a hardman, and frequently when pretending to be most lenient to tenants on theestates to which he was agent, or to men on whose lands he heldmortgages, he strained the law to its utmost limits. I will not say morethan that, but I could quote cases in which he put on the screw in a waythat was to my mind most absolutely unjustifiable, and I had been for avery long time trying to get out of his office before the opportunitycame. I may also say, Mr. Hartington, that I had the highest respect foryour
father. He always had a kind word when he came into the office, andregularly at Christmas he handed Levison and myself a check for tenpounds each, for, as he said, the trouble his business gave us. I tellyou this in order that you may feel you can safely repose any confidencein me, and that my advice will be wholly at your service if you shouldthink fit to give me your confidence in this matter, whatever it maybe. But at the same time I must say it would be still better if you putyourself in the hands of some respectable firm of solicitors. I do notsuggest my own principals more than others, although few men standhigher in the profession."

  "There are reasons against my laying the matter before any firm ofsolicitors, and the chief of these is that my hands are tied in apeculiar manner, and that I am unable to carry it through to its naturalsequence, but I will very thankfully accept your offer and will franklytell you the nature of my suspicions, for they are nothing more thansuspicions. I may first say that the news that my father was ashareholder in the Abchester Bank astounded me. For a time, I put itdown to one of those sudden impulses that are unaccountable, but I maytell you, and here my confidence begins, that I have come acrossCumming, the bank manager, and from him have obtained some curiousparticulars of this transaction--particulars that have excited mysuspicions.

  "You wondered why I asked you those questions. I will tell you. You didnot see my father affix his signature to either of those documents. Theone being certainly the transfer of some of Cumming's shares to him. Theother being, as I believe, the mortgage that, as you doubtless heard,Mr. Brander held over my father's estate. How could you tell those twosignatures were not clever forgeries?"

  Mr. Harford gave a start of surprise.

  "God bless me, sir," he exclaimed, "such an idea never entered my mind."

  "That I can quite understand," Cuthbert said, quietly, "but you mustadmit it is possible."

  "But in that case," the clerk said, after a pause, "Brander himself musthave been the forger, and surely that is not possible. I fancy I knowMr. Brander pretty well, but I should never have dreamt him capable offorgery. Not because I have a high opinion of his honesty, but because Ibelieve him to be a cautious man, and besides I do not see what possibleinterest he could have had in ruining your father by putting his nameon to the register of shareholders. Even if he had an interest in sodoing the risk of detection would be frightful, for not only would thematter be known to the directors, but, as you are aware, any shareholderhas a right on the payment of a nominal fee to inspect the list ofshareholders."

  "Precautions were taken against this," Cuthbert said. "Just glancethrough this paper, which has been signed and sworn to by Cumming inproper form at Brussels."

  Mr. Harford ran his eye over the document and then read it throughcarefully word by word.

  "This is an extraordinary statement," he said, gravely, "do you believeit, Mr. Hartington?"

  "I believe it implicitly. I had the man practically at my mercy. As youknow, there is a warrant out for his arrest and a word from me wouldhave set the police on his track and led to an application for hisextradition. Therefore he had every motive for telling me the truth, andI am as certain as I can be, that he did so."

  "If so there can be no question that Mr. Brander had some very strongreason indeed for preventing the knowledge of this transfer having everbeen made from being known; but in any case it must have come out whenthe bank failed and of course he must have had a pretty accurateknowledge of the state of its affairs."

  "Yes, but it man be that he had an equally accurate knowledge of thestate of my father's health. That would account for what Cumming says asto his offer to bolster up the bank for a time, and for a retraction ofthat offer within a few days after my father's death."

  "But why on earth should he have run all this risk merely to ruin you?He had no cause of enmity against you, had he, sir?"

  "None, so far as I knew but now we come to the other document where youwitnessed the signature without having seen it signed. If the signatureon the transfer was a forgery, why not that on the mortgage, if it wasthe mortgage. If so you see the motive of the transfer. The smash of thebank brought a good many estates into the market and they wouldconsequently go cheap. Not only would he get it far below its value, butby reason of this pretended mortgage he would get a further drawback ofL15,000 from the price he would pay as its purchase."

  "Good heavens, Mr. Hartington! You take my breath away! Have you anyreason whatever for believing that the mortgage was a bogus one?"

  "None, beyond the fact that I was ignorant of its existence. I was sosurprised that I not only wrote to Brander himself but to the officialliquidator. The former said he had advanced the money at the urgentrequest of my father, who told him he wished to settle a very longstanding claim upon him, and that he desired that the transaction shouldbe kept an absolute secret. The official liquidator said he had gonecarefully into the question of the mortgage, that it was of three years,standing, that the receipts Mr. Brander had given my father for thehalf-yearly interest on the money had been found among my father'spapers, and that Brander had moreover produced a document, showing thathe had sold securities to that amount, and had drawn the money from hisbankers in town by a singled check for L15,000. Do you remember whethersuch a deed was ever drawn up in the office?"

  "Certainly it was not, but you see that proves nothing, for it was to bekept a secret. Brander might have had it drawn up by some solicitor inLondon."

  "I see that. Well, then, this deed, whatever it was that you witnessed,was that drawn up in the office?"

  "No. I remember Levison and I talked it over and said it was curiousthat a deed between Brander and Mr. Hartington should not have beengiven to us as usual to be drawn up."

  "You witnessed his signature then as well as that of my father?"

  "Yes, I have a particular reason for remembering that, for I had satdown hurriedly after he had signed it, and dipping my pen too deeply inthe ink, made a blot. It was no doubt a stupid thing to do, but Branderwas so unreasonably angry about it, and blew me up so roughly that Imade up my mind there and then to stand it no longer, and wrote thatvery evening to my friend in my present office the letter which led tomy getting the situation there two or three months later."

  "That blot may be a most important one," Cuthbert said, "if it occurs onthe mortgage deed on Fairclose, it is clear that document was not, as itprofesses on its face, executed three years earlier."

  "That would be so indeed," Mr. Harford exclaimed, excitedly; "it wouldbe a piece of evidence there would be no getting over, and that factwould account for Brander's anger, which seemed to me was out of allproportion to the accident. If you could show that the mortgage deed onwhich Brander claimed is really that document we witnessed, it would beall up with him. As to the receipts for the payments of interest theyproved nothing as they were, of course, in Brander's own handwriting andwere found where he put them. If you could find out that Brander hadknowledge of Mr. Hartington's state of health about the time thattransfer was produced you would strengthen your case. It seems to methat he must have got an inkling of it just before he filled up thetransfer, and that he ante-dated it a week so that it would appear tohave been signed before he learnt about his illness. I can see no otherreason for the ante-dating it."

  "That may have been the reason," Cuthbert agreed. "It was one of thepoints for which Cumming and I, talking it over, could see no motive.Certainly he would wish that if anyone said to him you ought to haveprevented Mr. Hartington buying those shares when you knew that he wasin a precarious state of health, to be able to reply that when theshares were bought he had not the slightest idea of his being inanything but the best of health."

  "At any rate I will see Dr. Edwardes, and ascertain exactly when he didtell Brander. He is certain to be able by turning back to his visitingbook, to ascertain when he himself became aware of my father's danger,and is likely to remember whether he told Brander at once."

  "But even without that, Mr. Hartington, if you can prove that questiono
f the date of the deed you have him completely on the hip. Still itwill be a very difficult case to carry through, especially if you cannotget Cumming to come into court."

  "But, as I began by telling you, I cannot carry out the case to alegitimate conclusion, nor do I want the intervention of lawyers in thematter. I want the estate back again if I can get it, but rather thanthis matter should be made public I would not lift a little finger toregain the property. It happens," and he smiled dryly, "that Mr.Brander's reputation is almost as dear to me as it is to him, for I amgoing to marry his daughter. We should not feel quite comfortabletogether, you see, at the thought that the father was working out asentence of penal servitude."

  "That is an unfortunate combination indeed, Mr. Hartington," Mr. Harfordsaid seriously, though he could not repress a smile of amusement at theunexpected news. "Then it seems to me, sir, that Brander may in factsnap his fingers at any threat you may hold out, for he would feelcertain that you would never take any steps that would make the matterpublic."

  "Fortunately," Cuthbert replied. "Mr. Brander is wholly unaware of thelittle fact I have mentioned, and is likely to remain so until mattersare finally arranged between us."

  "That is indeed fortunate. Then I understand, Mr. Hartington, yourobject is to obtain so strong a proof of Brander's share in this affairas will place you in a position to go down to him, and force him intosome satisfactory arrangement with you."

  "That is it, and it is clear the first step will be to see the officialliquidator and to obtain a sight of the mortgage."

  "I suppose you know that he is the head of the firm of Cox, Tuke, andAtkinson, in Coleman Street. I suggest that the best plan will be to seehim to-morrow, and to make an appointment with him for you to inspectthe mortgage. You would wish me, of course, to be with you when you doso?"

  "Think you very much. I will go round there in the morning, and willcall at your office afterwards and let you know if I have arranged thematter, and the time at which I am to call to inspect the mortgage."