For one moment the handsome face, looking into his, lost some of its color. But the next, Arthur recovered himself, the blood flowed back to his cheeks, he laughed aloud, laughed in defiance. “Why, you—you fool!” he replied, in bitter contempt, “I don’t know what you are talking about. Your father—your father has sent you?” “It’s no good, Bourdillon,” Clement answered. “It’s all known. I’ve seen the Squire. He missed the certificates yesterday afternoon—almost as soon as you were gone. He sent for you, I went over, and he knows all.” He thought that that would finish the matter. To his astonishment Arthur only laughed afresh. “Knows all, does he?” he replied. “Well, what of it? And he found out through you, did he? Then a pretty fool you were to put your oar in! To go to him, or see him, or talk to him! Why, man,” with bravado, though Clement fancied that his eyes wavered and that the brag began to ring false, “what have I done? Borrowed his money for a month, that’s all! Taken a loan of it for a month or two—and for what? Why, to save your father and you and the whole lot of us. Ay, and half Aldersbury from ruin! I did it and I’d do it again! And he knows it, does he? Through your d—d interfering folly, who could not keep your mouth shut, eh! Well, if he does, what then? What can he do, simpleton?” “That’s to be seen.” “Nothing! Nothing, I tell you! He signed the transfer, signed it with his own hand, and he can’t deny it. The rest is just his word against mine.” “No, it’s Miss Griffin’s, too,” Clement said, marvelling at the other’s attitude and his audacity—if audacity it could be called. But Arthur, though he had been far from expecting a speedy discovery, had long ago made up his mind as to the risk he ran. And naturally he had considered the line he would take in the event of detection. He was not unprepared, therefore, even for Clement’s rejoinder, and, “Miss Griffin?” he retorted, contemptuously, “Do you think that she will give evidence against me? Or he—against a Griffin? Why, you booby, instead of talking and wasting time here, you ought to be down on your knees thanking me—you and your father! Thanking me, by heaven, for saving you and your bank, and taking all the risk myself! It would have been long before you’d have done it, my lad, I’ll answer for that!” “I hope so,” Clement replied with biting emphasis. “And you may understand at once that we don’t like your way, and are not going to be saved your way. We are not going to have any part or share in robbing your uncle—see! If we are going to be ruined, we are going to be ruined with clean hands! No, it’s no good looking at me like that, Bourdillon. I may be a fool in the bank, and you may call me what names you like. But I am your match here, and I am going to take possession of that money.” “Do you think, then,” furiously, “that I am going to run away with it?”