As she entered, Mr. Kleinwort, who would have tried to be civil to a woman had the task of conducting her to the scaffold been confided to him, rose and greeted Madam, whom he had never previously beheld, with a low bow and sweeping wave of his hat. Mr. Forde having, however, arrived at a state of mind in which the ordinary courtesies of life seemed worse than mockeries, remained seated, and only acknowledged her presence with a nod. Dolly looked at him in mute astonishment. No circumstance in the whole of their experience, not even the appearance of the sheriff's officers, had so amazed her as the sight of Mr. Forde, leaning back in a chair, his hands buried in his pockets, his hat tilted a little over his eyes. She could scarcely believe the evidence of her senses, and stood for an instant confused, surprised out of her customary self-possession. Next moment, however, happening to glance towards Rupert, she saw an expression on his face which meant--Danger--Caution. Mrs. Mortomley closed the door, and walking to the further side of the centre table, took up her position beside Rupert, declining Mr. Kleinwort's effusive proffer of a chair. "You wished to see me," she said calmly enough, though there was a choking sensation in her throat, and her lips and mouth were parched as if she were in a fever. "Ah! madame, yes," exclaimed Kleinwort, hurriedly preventing his friend's reply. "We have come to see what can be done. It is so unfortunate--it seems so great pity--we feel--" "I feel we have been swindled," interrupted Mr. Forde. "Be silent, Kleinwort, I will speak. Between your husband and your precious nephew, we have been let into a nice hole. First this clever young man takes the management of affairs, and when he has got as deep into our books as he can, his uncle threatens to stop. We give him time, assistance, everything he asks, and then he says he is ill, and _you_, knowing your husband has made himself right, send us up a cool message, saying affairs have come to such a pass you must go into liquidation. By----, you ought all to be prosecuted for conspiracy, and I am not certain I shall not apply to the Lord Mayor for a warrant to-morrow." In his righteous indignation Mr. Forde rose from his seat and walked to the window, Mr. Kleinwort following, and laying his hand on his arm. "Keep your temper, for Heaven's sake," whispered Rupert to his companion. "Is he mad?" she asked in the same tone, but low as she spoke Mr. Forde caught her words, and faced round while he answered. "No, madame, I am not mad, though it is not your husband's fault that I have kept my senses. I trusted to his representations. I believed he was solvent as the Bank of England. I told my directors he was as safe as Rothschild, but I will find out what he has done with his money, and if there has been, as I believe, misappropriation, I will send him to gaol, if there is justice to be had in the land."