Again Clement thought that it was time to interpose, “Indeed I do not, sir,” he said. “I am entirely in the dark.” In truth, looking on what he did, seeing before him the unfamiliar room, the dark staring windows, and the old man so unlike himself and so like King Lear or some figure of tragedy, he was tempted to think the scene a dream. “If you will tell me what is the matter, perhaps I can help. Arthur left this morning for London. He went to raise the money with which he was entrusted——” “Entrusted?” the Squire cried with something of his old energy. He raised his head and struck the floor with his stick. “Entrusted? That’s what you call it, is it?” Clement stared. “I don’t understand,” he said. “What did he tell you?” Josina asked. “For heaven’s sake speak, Clement! Tell us what he told you.” “Ay,” the Squire chimed in. “Tell us how you managed it. Now it’s done, let’s hear it.” For the time scorn, a weary kind of scorn, had taken the place of anger and subdued him to its level. But Clement was still at sea. “Managed it?” he repeated. “What do you——” “Tell us, tell us—from the beginning!” Jos cried, at the end of her patience. “About this money? What did Arthur tell you? What did he tell you—this morning?” Then for the first time Clement saw what was in question, and he braced himself to meet the shock which he foresaw. “He told us,” he said, “what Mr. Griffin had consented to do—that he had given him securities for twelve thousand pounds for the use of the bank and to support its credit. He had the stock with him, and he received from the bank, in return for it, an undertaking to replace the amount two months after date with interest at seven per cent. It was thought best that he should take it to London himself, as it was so large a sum and time was everything. And he went by the coach this morning—to realize the money.” Josina shivered. “He took it without authority,” she said, her voice low. “He stole it,” the Squire said, “out of that cupboard.” “Oh, but that’s impossible, sir!” Clement replied with eagerness. He felt an immense relief, for he thought that he saw light. He took note of the Squire’s condition, and he fancied that his memory, if not his mind, had given way. He had forgotten what he had done. That was it! “That’s impossible, sir,” he repeated firmly. “He had a proper transfer of the stock—India Stock it was—signed and witnessed and all in order.” “Signed and witnessed?” the Squire ejaculated. “Signed and—signed, your grandmother! So that’s your story, is it? Signed and witnessed, eh?”