There was a moment's silence. Ewan glanced down at the document. It showed that fifty pounds had been lent to Daniel Mylrea, by Benas Brothers, of the Goree Piazza, Liverpool, and it was signed by Ewan's own name as that of surety. "Is that your signature?" asked the stranger. Ewan glanced at Dan, and Dan's head was on his breast and his lips quivered. The Bishop was trembling visibly, and sat with head bent low by the sorrow of a wrecked and shattered hope. The stranger looked from Ewan to Dan, and from Dan to the Bishop. The Deemster gazed steadily before him, and his face wore a ghostly smile. "Is it your signature?" repeated the stranger, and his words fell on the silence like the clank of a chain. Ewan saw it all now. He glanced again at the document, but his eyes were dim, and he could read nothing. Then he lifted his face, and its lines of agony told of a terrible struggle. "Yes," he answered, "the signature _is_ mine--what of it?" At that the Bishop and Mona raised their eyes together. The stranger looked incredulous. "It is quite right if you say so," the stranger replied, with a cold smile. Ewan trembled in every limb. "I do say so," he said. His fingers crumpled the document as he spoke, but his head was erect, and the truth seemed to sit on his lips. Dan dropped heavily into a chair and buried his face in his hands. The stranger smiled again the same cold smile. "The lenders wish to withdraw the loan," he said. "They may do so--in a month," said Ewan. "That will suffice." The Deemster's face twitched; Mona's cheeks were wet with tears; the Bishop had risen and gone to the window, and was gazing out through blurred eyes into the blinding rain that was now pelting against the glass. "It would be cruel to prolong a painful interview," said the stranger; and then, with a glance toward Dan where he sat convulsed with distress that he made no effort to conceal, he added, in a hard tone: "Only the lenders came to have reasons to fear that perhaps the document had been drawn without your knowledge." Ewan handed the paper back with a nerveless hand. He looked at the stranger through swimming eyes and said gently, but with an awful inward effort, "You have my answer, sir--I knew of it." The stranger bowed and went out. Dan leaped to his feet and threw his arms about Ewan's neck, but dared not to look into his troubled face. Mona covered her eyes and sobbed. The Deemster picked up his hat to go, and in passing out he paused in front of Ewan and said, in a bitter whisper: "Fool! fool! You have taken this man's part to your own confusion." When the door closed behind the Deemster the Bishop turned from the window. "Ewan," he said, in a voice like a cry, "the Recording Angel has set down the lie you have told to-day in the Book of Life to your credit in heaven." Then the Bishop paused, and Dan lifted his head from Ewan's neck.