‘Brooks, I’ve a great respect for you as a man of business, but, upon my word, your faculties are beginning to fail. Grigg and Limpet will remit this money to me _by cheque_.’ ‘Oh!’ That was all Mr. Brooks said, but it contained a whole dictionary of words. It was an ‘Oh!’ of sudden revelation, of admiration, of ecstasy, and of triumph. Marston watched the effect of his brilliant idea on his companion with pleasure. It was his desire to dazzle all men with whom he came into contact, to stand a head and shoulders above his fellows. Now that he had what he was pleased to call ‘a fair start,’ his ambition was boundless. His feet, at present, were on lowly stepping-stones; as he progressed, and the field of fortune opened out before him in a series of golden vistas, he would spurn the humble instruments of his advancement from him, and reign unquestioned and unchallenged in a new world. ‘Brooks, my boy,’ he said, when that gentleman had got over his mingled admiration and enthusiasm, ‘I am only at the beginning of the work I have to do. I am afraid you won’t be able to go very far on the road with me if you don’t brighten up a bit.’ Mr. Brooks hoped Mr. Marston would always be able to make use of his services. ‘Well, it will be time enough to talk about it when I can’t. At any rate, we won’t dissolve partnership till there’s a rattling good profit to divide. Now cut back to the office and send your messenger to the solicitors with the money. They’ve promised to remit me at once if they recover it, as I’ve said I’m leaving town. I shall have their cheque to-morrow, and then we can set to work.’ ‘Shall I come up to you to-morrow?’ ‘No, I think not. I’ll come down to the office to you. There’s no danger over the other cheque, I suppose? The office isn’t watched?’ ‘No; Preene’s got the matter in hand, and he’s put the Yard on the wrong scent altogether. I shall have the tip from him if there should be danger.’ ‘Very well, then, I’ll come round at eleven if I receive the cheque. Get your clerk out of the way, so that you are alone when I come. Good-morning.’ Mr. Marston bowed Mr. Brooks out and returned to his library to finish his cigar and a romance he was reading when his partner interrupted him. Mr. Marston had just got to the death of the heroine, a very lovable character. The description of her last hours was most pathetically drawn by the author, and, as Marston read, the big lump came in his throat and his eyes filled with tears. Mr. Marston had a most sympathetic nature, and any story of human suffering distressed him immensely. CHAPTER XVIII. THE FORGED CHEQUE. On the morning following Mr. Brooks’s interview with the senior partner at his private residence, George, on his arrival at the office, was instantly despatched on a commission which would keep him out of the way till twelve o’clock.