“I know, Griffin, I know,” Woosenham admitted meekly. “You were right and I was wrong, Squire. But the thing is done, and what am I to do now? If I stand by and this money is lost——” “Ay, ay! You’ll have dropped us all into a pretty scalding pot, then!” “Just so, just so.” The baronet had pleaded guilty, but he was growing restive under the other’s scolding, and he plucked up spirit. “Granted. But, after all, your nephew’s in the concern, Griffin. He’s in it, too, you know, and——” He stopped, shocked by the effect of his words. For the old man had withdrawn his arm and had stepped back, trembling in all his limbs. “Not with my good will!” he cried, and he struck his stick with violence on the ground. “Never! never!” he repeated, passionately. “But you are right,” bitterly, “you are right, Woosenham. The taint is in the air, the taint of the City and the ’Change, and we cannot escape it even here—even here in this house! In the concern? Ay, he is! And I tell you I wish to heaven that he had been in his grave first!” The other, a kindly man, was seriously concerned. “Oh. come, Squire,” he said; and he took the old man affectionately by the arm again. “It’s no such matter as all that. You make too much of it. He’s young, and the younger generation look at these things differently. After all, there’s more to be said for him than for me.” The Squire groaned. “And, anyway, my old friend,” Woosenham continued gently, “advise me. Time presses.” He looked at his watch. “What shall I do? What had I better do? I know I am safe in your hands.” The Squire sighed, but the other’s confidence was soothing, and with the sigh he put off his own trouble. He reflected, his face turned to the ground at his feet. “Do you think him honest?” he asked, after a pause. “Who? Ovington?” “Ay,” gloomily. “Ovington? The banker there.” “Well, I do think he is. Yes, I do think so. I’ve no reason to think otherwise.” “He’s a director, ain’t he?” “Of the Railroad? Yes.” “Responsible as you are?” “Yes, I suppose he is!” “A kind of trustee, then, ain’t he—for the shareholders.” Sir Charles had not seen it in that light before. He looked at his adviser with growing respect. “Well, I take it he is—now you mention it, Griffin,” he said.