Then he told his story. The absconded Mr. Bransby, an astute gentleman who had established a reputation for probity by scrupulous observance of the conventionalities dear to the society of a market town and had never missed attendance at his parish church, had suddenly vanished into the _Ewigkeit_, leaving a few widows and orphans, several tradespeople, and a large number of unsuspecting and confiding clients, to mourn, not his loss, but his knavery. Simpson Pepperdine had been an easy victim. Some years previously he had consented to act as trustee for a neighbour’s family--Mr. Bransby was his co-trustee. Simpson had left everything in Mr. Bransby’s hands--it now turned out that Mr. Bransby had converted everything to his own uses, leaving his careless coadjutor responsible. But this was not all. Simpson, who had made money by breeding shorthorns, had from time to time placed considerable sums in the lawyer’s hands for investment, and had trusted him entirely as to their nature. He had received good interest, and had never troubled either to ask for or inspect the securities. It had now been revealed to him that there had never been any securities--his money had gone into Mr. Bransby’s own coffers. Simpson Pepperdine, in short, was a ruined man. Mr. Trippett was genuinely disturbed by this news. He felt that his good-natured and easy-going friend had been to blame in respect to his laxity and carelessness. But he himself had had some slight dealings with Mr. Bransby, and he knew the plausibility and suaveness of that gentleman’s manner. ‘It’s a fair cropper!’ he exclaimed. ‘I could ha’ trusted that Bransby like the Bank of England. I allus understood he were doing uncommon well.’ ‘So he were,’ answered Mr. Pepperdine, ‘uncommon well--out of fools like me.’ ‘I hope,’ said Mr. Trippett, mentioning the subject with some shyness, ‘I hope the gals’ money isn’t lost, an’ all?’ ‘What, Keziah and Judith? Nay, nay,’ replied Mr. Pepperdine. ‘It isn’t. What bit they have--matter of five hundred pound each, may be--is safe enough.’ ‘Nor the lad’s, either,’ said Mr. Trippett. ‘The lad’s?’ said Mr. Pepperdine questioningly. ‘Oh, Lucian? Oh--ay--of course, he’s all right.’ Mr. Trippett went over to the sideboard, produced the whisky decanter, mixed himself a glass, lighted his pipe, and proceeded to think hard. ‘Well,’ he said, after some time, ‘I know what I should do if I were i’ your case, Simpson. I should go to his lordship and tell him all about it.’ Mr. Pepperdine started and looked surprised. ‘I’ve never asked a favour of him yet,’ he said. ‘I don’t know----’ ‘I didn’t say aught about asking any favour,’ said Mr. Trippett. ‘I said--go and tell his lordship all about it. He’s the reppytation of being a long-headed ’un, has Lord Simonstower--he’ll happen suggest summut.’ Mr. Pepperdine rubbed his chin meditatively.