‘It was not unnatural,’ said he, gently. ‘People with a cheque-book and a balance at the banker’s, are apt to think they understand business when they don’t. But it is of no consequence, really. The thing has happened, and if you had known all the secrets of the Stock Exchange you could not have prevented it.’ ‘No, I know,’ said Helena, looking wearily round. ‘I wonder if Fred will come back with Uncle Robert. I daresay he has been to consult him. Don’t you think so?’ ‘It may be so; at least, your uncle will be able to tell us something about him.’ ‘How I wish it was all over,’ she went on, ‘and that we were safely housed in, wherever we go to--some back street in Manchester, I dare say.’ ‘Oh, it may not be quite so bad as that.’ ‘I never said I thought that would be bad,’ said Helena, leaning her elbows, as if utterly tired out, upon the table, and resting her head upon her hands. Sebastian felt a deep pity stir his heart. She had already suffered so much--she had still so much more, and so much worse to suffer. Perhaps all this pain would make her what people, what he himself, would call ‘more reasonable.’ But she was very sweet in her unreasonableness. It seemed rather sad that she must go through such an ordeal in order that she might become like other people. At this point a servant announced ‘Mr. Robert Bamford,’ and Helena’s uncle arrived. Now Sebastian felt sure some painful truths would have to be told, and he again looked with a strange strength of compunction at the beautiful, weary, white face of Helena. Mr. Bamford was a very plain, rough-spoken man indeed, who walked with a heavy step into the room, glanced at Sebastian from a pair of shrewd, dark eyes, and without waiting for an introduction, gave a stiff little nod, and said, ‘Your servant, sir;’ and then turned to his niece with the greeting, ‘Well, Helena, this is a pretty business.’ ‘It is very sad, uncle,’ said she, facing him, pale, and with dilated eyes. ‘I think we had better not talk about it, but see what is to be done.’ ‘There’s not much left to be done now that yon precious brother o’ yours has given us the slip.’ ‘_What?_’ said Helena, growing paler than before, and putting her trembling hands upon the table to support herself. ‘Fred given you the slip--what do you mean? He has gone to see about papa’s affairs. He--I expected him to come back with you. What has he done?’ There was no defiance in the tone, only apprehension. ‘Done!’ ejaculated Mr. Bamford, plunging his hands into his pockets and almost running about the room in his excitement. ‘Done! Why, he’s taken everything he could lay his hands on in the shape of money or money’s worth, and he’s off--perhaps to America, but certainly to the devil.’ ‘Do you mean that Fred has acted dishonourably?’ asked Helena, almost inaudibly, and trembling still more.