Potts thanked him profusely. "I wish to see your cashier, to learn his mode of managing the accounts. Much depends on that, and a short conversation will satisfy me."

"Certainly, Sir, certainly," said Potts, obsequiously. "Philips!" he called.

Philips came in as timid and as shrinking as usual.

"This is Mr. Smithers, the great Smithers of Smithers & Co., Bankers; he wishes to have a talk with you."

Philips looked at the great man with deep respect and made an awkward bow.

"You may come with me to my hotel," said Smithers; and with a slight bow to Potts he left the bank, followed by Philips.

He went up stairs and into a large parlor on the second story, which looked into the street. He motioned Philips to a chair near the window, and seated himself in an arm-chair opposite.

Smithers looked at the other with a searching glance, and said nothing for some time. His large, full eyes, as they fixed themselves on the face of the other, seemed to read his inmost thoughts and study every part of his weak and irresolute character.

At length he said, abruptly, in a slow, measured voice, "Edgar Lawton!"

At the sound of this name Philips started from his chair, and stood on his feet trembling. His face, always pale, now became ashen, his lips turned white, his jaw fell, his eyes seemed to start from their sockets.

He stood for a few seconds, then sank back into a chair.

Smithers eyed him steadfastly. "You see I know you," said he, after a time.

Philips cast on him an imploring look.

"The fact that I know your name," continued Smithers, "shows also that I must know something of your history. Do not forget that!"

"My--my history?" faltered Philips.

"Yes, your history. I know it all, wretched man! I knew your father whom you ruined, and whose heart you broke."

Philips said not a word, but again turned an imploring face to this man.

"I have brought you here to let you know that there is one who holds you in his power, and that one is myself. You think Potts or Clark have you at their mercy. Not so. I alone hold your fate in my hands. They dare not do any thing against you for fear of their own necks."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "AT THE SOUND OF THIS NAME PHILIPS STARTED FROM HIS CHAIR, AND STOOD ON HIS FEET TREMBLING."]

Philips looked up now in wonder, which was greater than his fear.

"Why," he faltered, "you are Potts's friend. You got him to start the bank, and you have advanced him money."

"You are the cashier," said Smithers, calmly. "Can you tell me how much the Brandon Bank owes Smithers & Co?"

Philips looked at the other and hesitated.

"Speak!"

"Two hundred and eighty-nine thousand pounds."

"And if Smithers & Co. chose to demand payment to-morrow, do you think the Brandon Bank would be prompt about it?"

Philips shook his head.

"Then you see that the man whom you fear is not so powerful as some others."

"I thought you were his friend?"

"Do you know who I am?"

"Smithers & Co.," said Philips, wearily.

"Well, let me tell you the plans of Smithers & Co. are beyond your comprehension. Whether they are friends to Potts or not, it seems that they are his creditors to an amount which it would be difficult for him to pay if they chose to demand it."

Philips looked up. He caught sight of the eyes of Smithers, which blazed like two dark, fiery orbs as they were fastened upon him. He shuddered.

"I merely wished to show you the weakness of the man whom you fear.

Shall I tell you something else?"

Philips looked up fearfully.

"I have been in York, in Calcutta, and in Manilla: and I know what Potts did in each place. You look frightened. You have every reason to be so.

I know what was done at York. I know that you were sent to Botany Bay.

I know that you ran away from your father to India. I know your life there. I know how narrowly you escaped going on board the _Vishnu_, and being implicated in the Manilla murder. Madman that you were, why did you not take your poor mother and fly from these wretches forever?"

Philips trembled from head to foot. He said not a word, but bowed his head upon his knees and wept.

"Where is she now?" said Smithers, sternly. Philips mechanically raised his head, and pointed over toward Brandon Hall.

"Is she confined against her will?"

Philips shook his head.

"She stays, then, through love of you?"

Philips nodded.

"Is any one else there?" said Smithers, after a pause, and in a strange, sad voice, in which there was a faltering tone which Philips, in his fright, did not notice.

"Miss Potts," he said.

"She is treated cruelly," said Smithers. "They say she is a prisoner?"

Philips nodded.

"Has she been sick?"

"Yes."

"How long?"