'Well, sir, you clearly believe that I forged your name and robbed you of all this money. I have not got ten pounds in the world; but that is not, I suppose, a fact which bears on the case. You think I have seven hundred pounds somewhere. Very good. Think so, if you please. Meanwhile, I am not going to stay in the service of a man who is capable of thinking such a thing. I leave your service--at once. Get some one else to serve you--somebody who likes being charged with forgery and theft.' He flung himself out of the room and banged the door behind him. 'He has run away,' said Checkley. 'Actually, run away at the very outset! What do you think now?' 'I do not think. We shall, I daresay, find out the truth in due course. Meantime, these documents will remain in my keeping.' 'Only, I hope, sir,' the clerk began, 'that after what you've just seen and heard, after such insolence and running away and all----' 'Don't be an ass, Checkley. So far as appearances go, no one could get at the safe except you and Arundel. So far as the ascertained facts go, there is nothing to connect either of you with the thing. He is a foolish young man; and if he is innocent, which we must, I suppose, believe'--but his look did not convey the idea of robust faith--'he will come back when he has cooled down.' 'The imitations of your handwriting in his drawer----' 'The man who forged the cheque,' said Mr. Dering, 'whoever he was, could easily have written those imitations. I shall see that hot-headed boy's mother, and bring him to reason.--Now, Checkley, we will resume work. And not a word of this business, if you please, outside. You have yourself to think of as well, remember. You, as well as that boy, have access to the safe. Enough--enough.' Athelstan Arundel walked home all the way, foaming and raging. No omnibus, cab, or conveyance ever built could contain a young man in such a rage. His mother lived at Pembridge Square, which is four good measured miles from Lincoln's Inn. He walked the whole way, walking through crowds, and under the noses of dray-horses, carriage-horses, and cart-horses, without taking the least notice of them. When he reached home, he dashed into the drawing-room, where he found his two sisters--Hilda and Elsie--one of them a girl of eighteen, the other of thirteen. With flaming cheeks and fiery eyes he delivered himself of his story; he hurled it at their heads; he called upon them to share his indignation, and to join with him in scorn and contempt of the man--their supposed best friend, Trustee, Guardian, Adviser--their father's best friend--who had done this thing--who had accused him, on the bare evidence of two or three circumstantial facts, of such a crime!