Alick rejoined his cousin, and tossing the cap he had put on to go to the door, as a protection against the cold morning air, into a corner of the sofa, exclaimed: "A d--d rascally story! The devil take the whole business! There's no one to be trusted."--"Alick," said Frank gently, as he went up to him, "you are doing your people a grievous wrong, you are doing yourself wrong, dear cousin, by nursing such unjust suspicious in your kind heart."--"Unjust? What do you mean? I've been robbed of three hundred pounds"--"The money has been lost, Alick, by the thoughtlessness and folly of a labourer."--"_Lost_, did you say? Are you going to repeat the tale my bailiff has thought fit to tell me?"--"Everyone is of the same opinion, Alick; the mayor himself says ....."--"Don't talk to me about what that old fool said. If I had only conducted the examination myself I should have discovered something before now; if I had even spoken to the woman first this morning she'd have told a different story; but now ... It's nothing more nor less than bribery!"--"Stop, Alick!" cried Frank sternly. "You've hinted at that already this morning but fortunately were not understood. You are now making an open accusation, and I must know what your grounds are for making such a charge."--"I have good reasons for doing so."--"Just consider for a moment. You are accusing an honest old man; you are unjustly and hastily casting a slur on a man who has lived for sixty years in the world and whose honour in unblemished."--Alick grew calmer and tried to excuse himself: "I never said that he had done it, only that he might have done it."--"It's just as bad to suspect him of perhaps doing such a thing; the suspicion hurts you as much as it does the old man. Only think, Alick," he went on laying his hand affectionately on his cousin's shoulder, "how long and faithfully Hawermann has looked after your father's and your own interests. To me," he added in a low tone, "he has been more than that, he has been a true friend and a painstaking teacher." Alick walked up and down the room. He felt he was wrong--at least for the moment--but he was too much of a moral coward to acknowledge that he wanted to throw the blame of his own faults and follies on Hawermann's shoulders, so taking refuge in the mode of action commonly employed by weak souls when in a difficulty such as the present, he determined to carry the war into the enemy's country. He once more shut his heart to the pure unvarnished truth, selling it, as it were, for a piece of silver.