"Why--she's typing, very badly, some absolutely worthless rubbish, for the magnificent payment of two guineas a week, which I can't afford to pay her." "That sounds involved. Do you mean that she acts as your typewriter?" "No, sir; she's my jobbing secretary; though I don't know what that is; nor does she. And in that position she's earning two guineas a week; which is more than I am." "What's the idea?" "The idea is that she's a lady; and that she wanted to earn her daily bread, desperately badly. Mind, you're not to breathe a word of this to her, or she'll go away at once, and probably never forgive me into the bargain." "It strikes me that you've been entertaining an angel unawares. She says she's the daughter of Donald Lindsay, of Cloverlea." "What she says goes. That girl wouldn't tell a lie--well, she wouldn't." "Then in that case she must be worth piles of money. I don't understand why she's here; unless---- Is it possible that she doesn't know of the connection between Lindsay and Oldfield?" "Frank, there's a mystery about that girl; I've suspected it all along; now suspicion's growing to certainty. Let's ask her to come in, and we'll put her in the box. I'd give--more than I am ever likely to have, to be to her a bearer of good tidings." "Jack! Is it like that?" "You idiot! I've only known her about two minutes; besides, she'd never look at the likes of me; I feel it in the marrow of my bones. But that's no reason why, if you have good news for her, she shouldn't know them." "One moment! The point on which I've come to consult you I haven't yet reached; and a very nasty one it is; all the same, my dear Jack, we must leave Miss Lindsay till we've discussed it. I'm accused of having committed forgery." "Frank! you're jesting!" "It would be a grim jest if I were; but I'm not. Yesterday Mr. Morgan charged me, point-blank, with having forged--and uttered--bills, for over forty thousand pounds; more, he seemed amazed because I did not at once confess my guilt and throw myself upon his mercy." "The man's a lunatic!" "Mr. Nash did not directly associate himself with Mr. Morgan's charges; on the other hand, he did not dissociate himself. His attitude puzzled me. I fancy that he had no doubt about my guilt until he met me, and that, afterwards, his judgment was in suspense." "But what foundation had either of these men for such a monstrous accusation?" "That's the difficulty; Morgan professes to believe he has a sound one." "Whose name are you supposed to have forged?" "Donald Lindsay's." "But you never heard it till yesterday." "That is so; but Morgan called me a liar, right out, when I said so; and appearances may be against me. Jack, I'm in an awkward position." "I don't see why; you can bring Mr. Morgan to book, and there's an end of him." "There's more in it than you suppose; it's not so simple. Let me explain; or at least try to. You've heard me speak of a man named Trevor, Harry Trevor?"