“Well, Mr. Galley, I am sorry to hear that you are in trouble, but I cannot help you.” “If I do go bankrupt,” he said savagely, “the old woman will go into the workhouse. That’s one consolation. And she’s your great-aunt.” “You forget your sister, Mr. Galley. From what I know of Board Schools, I should say that she is quite able to maintain her grandmother. If not, there may be other assistance.” “There’s another thing, then,” he persisted. “When I spoke to you first, I mentioned the word ‘accumulations.’” “No one mentions any other word just now, I think,” Leonard replied, with a touch of temper. “They must be enormous. I’ve been working it out. Enormous! And that old man can’t live much longer. He can’t. He’s ninety-five.” “Mr. Galley, I put it to you as a lawyer, or, at least, as a solicitor: Do you think that your great-grandfather has lived all these years without making a will?” “He can’t make a will. He is a madman.” “Ask his solicitors for an opinion on that subject. The old man will not speak, but he receives communications and gives instructions.” “I shall dispute the will if I’m not named in it. I shall expect a full share. I shall show that he’s a madman.” “As you please. Meanwhile, it is doubtful whether the testator ever heard your name.” “He knows his daughter’s name. And what’s hers is mine.” “I must open the door again, Mr. Galley, if you talk nonsense. I hear, by the way, that you have made that lady sign certain papers. As a solicitor, you must know that such documents would be regarded by the Court with extreme suspicion.” “If I have to go bankrupt I shall let the whole world know that you wouldn’t lift a finger to save your own cousin.” “As you please.” “And if there’s a will that turns out me, I’ll drag the whole thing into Court and expose you. I will expose you, by----” Leonard opened the door again. “This time, Mr. Galley, you will go.” He obeyed. He dropped his hat on his head, he marched out, and he bawled on the stairs as he went down: “I’ll expose you--I’ll expose you--I’ll expose you!” These terrifying and minatory words rang up and down the stairs of that respectable mansion like the voice of an Accusing Angel, so that everybody who heard them jumped and turned pale, and murmured: “Oh, good Lord! What’s come out now?” CHAPTER XVIII THE LIGHT THAT BROKE It was Sunday morning. Leonard sat before the fire doing nothing. He had done nothing for three weeks. He had no desire to do anything: his work lay neglected on the table, books and papers piled together. He was brooding over the general wreck of all he had held precious: over the family history; the family disgraces and disasters; and the mystery which it was hopeless to look into but impossible to forget. The bells were ringing all around: the air was full of the melody, or the jingle of the bells of many Churches.