Silwood, having explained to Ernest that he particularly wished to see his father, not only to see how he was, but also to consult him with respect to Bennet's affairs, accompanied the young man to Ivydene.

Silwood had not seen Francis Eversleigh since he had made his confession to him on the Sat.u.r.day forenoon, and even his phlegm was disturbed by the change worked in twenty-four hours on Francis, who looked broken and seriously ill. The meeting was an intensely painful one to Eversleigh; indeed, he thought at first of declining to see Silwood, but changed his mind.

Silwood saw Eversleigh in the latter's bedroom.

"Francis," said he, in a stiff, formal tone, "I am very sorry to see you like this. You take things too much to heart. It's a bad blow, I know--a terrible blow. I can't tell you how bitterly I regret what I've done--how I repent of it."

Eversleigh looked at him strangely. Ever since Silwood had confessed his guilt there had been moments when Eversleigh felt he could murder Silwood. And now that Silwood was before him, he fiercely asked himself why he should not kill like a rat this man whom he had trusted so implicitly, and who had betrayed that trust so shamefully. Did the man not deserve death? Was anything too bad for him? And these questions were in his eyes as they fixed themselves on Silwood.

"I don't suppose you came here," he said, in a strained voice that had a curious hissing sound about it, "to tell me this."

"To tell you this, Frank," observed Silwood, meeting fully the other's gaze, "and other things too."

"What other things?" he asked hoa.r.s.ely, glancing away from Silwood.

Already his impulse of murder was pa.s.sing away from his wavering mind; he was telling himself that if he killed Silwood the lot of his wife and family would only be the more desperate.

Silwood all the while was regarding him intently. He was trying to read Eversleigh's mind, and he came to the conclusion that Eversleigh was capable of committing suicide or some other rash act.

"Before speaking of these, Frank," replied Silwood, "let me beg of you not to fret too much. What is the use of dwelling on what is past and cannot now be mended?"

"How can I help it?"

"You must try. For one thing, you must come to the office. It is surely better to attend to your work at the office----"

"To attend to my work!" broke in Eversleigh. "How can I, when all my thoughts are centred on one thing--the ruin that is coming upon me and those innocent ones who must suffer? To attend to my work is impossible!"

"Surely not."

"You know--no one better--that for years I have never attended to my work properly. Do not think that I consider myself free from blame. I ought never to have allowed you to get control of the whole finances of the firm. It was my duty to have made inquiry, and to have seen that everything belonging to our clients was in perfect order. I have been criminally neglectful--I see that very clearly;" and as he spoke his own condemnation there was a sob in his throat.

"Yes; but how does all this prevent you from coming to the office? Is it not just the other way? And for a short time there is no reason to be afraid. What we have to dread most is the coming of Morris Thornton, and that, I hear, will not be till some time next week. That gives us a little breathing-s.p.a.ce."

"Till some time next week!" said Eversleigh. "That's not much of a respite."

"Still, it's something. But there is another thing I have to tell you."

"What's that?" dully asked Eversleigh, telling himself that at any rate he knew the worst.

"We got a telegram from Bennet saying he was drawing on us for two thousand pounds."

"Well, can't we pay it?"

"Certainly; but it is inconvenient. The withdrawal of this sum from our bank account seriously reduces our balance."

"What is our balance?"

"About six thousand. With care, and if it were not for the coming of Thornton, we might be able to carry on for a long time."

"I have been thinking over our affairs," said Eversleigh, "since you spoke to me yesterday, and it seems to me we ought to call in a first-cla.s.s accountant to make a thorough investigation."

"And what would be the inevitable result?" asked Silwood, drily.

"We should know--I should know--how we stand."

"But I know quite well."

"I suppose so. What is the amount of your--of our, I suppose I must say--defalcations?"

"About four hundred thousand. That would be a nice thing for an accountant to discover, to certify to! No, Francis, it is absurd to call in an accountant. It would not be long before he found out we were insolvent, and--defaulters. What service would that be to you or to the firm? None whatever."

"No, perhaps it would not do," acquiesced Eversleigh, weakly. "You said four hundred thousand. How could you have been such a fool as to lose so much money? Four hundred thousand!"

"I was a fool, Frank. But it's easy enough for a wise man to lose more than that on the Stock Exchange."

"Well," sighed Eversleigh, hopelessly, "I don't know what's to be done."

"Why, nothing at present. And perhaps, Francis, your personal position is not so bad. Ernest told me of the engagement of Miss Thornton to Gilbert. That, surely, is an excellent thing for you. When her father finds out the state of affairs he will be silent. He will certainly not care to prosecute the father of his daughter's accepted husband, will he?"

"He will insist on the engagement being broken off."

"Perhaps, but perhaps not. Leaving that aside, have you thought of the scheme I mentioned----?"

"Yes, yes; I have considered it," replied Eversleigh; then he looked at Silwood wonderingly, and said, "You take our position--my position--very coolly, Cooper. One would think you had no real conception of what you have done."

"Well," rejoined Silwood, hardily, "you see, it is all new to you, Francis, but it is no novelty to me. I have been familiar with our position for a long time--for years. But this is quite beside the point.

Let us come to business. Do you intend to adopt my scheme?"

"I do not," said Eversleigh, firmly. "It is preposterous."

"If you will be advised by me----"

"Not in this," Eversleigh cried excitedly, "not in this. Would to G.o.d I had never been born!" he exclaimed. And he begged Silwood to leave him, promising to be at the office, however, next day.

As Silwood travelled back to town there was a singular and enigmatic expression on his face; he was thinking that Eversleigh's consent to what he had proposed was not essential, and, this being so, that he would act alone.

CHAPTER VI

Francis Eversleigh returned to the office in Lincoln's Inn next day, and strove to take up his work again, but with indifferent success; the shadow of his impending ruin never lifted itself from his mind. On the other hand, Cooper Silwood, having determined to act alone, began to make preparations for carrying out his scheme.

All that day Silwood was incessantly occupied with the ordinary business of that department of the office which was his special care. No man could have told from his aspect, or from the manner in which he did his business, that anything pressed heavily upon him; he seemed in no way different from the imperturbable, shrewd, capable lawyer people believed him always to be. But what he purposed doing was never absent from his thoughts.

According to custom, at six o'clock Williamson brought him the letters for signature. This signing of the letters served as a sort of signal, for shortly afterwards the clerks left and the office was closed, though it was not an uncommon thing for Silwood to stay on by himself for another hour or two. The Eversleighs went earlier in order to catch the fast five-o'clock suburban train.

At six o'clock Williamson went into Silwood's room with the letters; he placed them silently before his master, who read them over rapidly, and then affixed the firm's signature in his careful, small handwriting.