The greatness and importance of the firm of Eversleigh, Silwood and Eversleigh, solicitors, had never for a single instant been doubted by Gilbert, until his father's declaration had swept away that greatness and importance for ever. All his life Gilbert had believed his father's firm was as enduringly established as the Bank of England; he regarded it as a permanent institution. It was difficult for him to realize it was nothing now but a bankrupt concern. When he did realize it, and remembered the obligations of the firm which must exist over and above those arising out of the Thornton and Bennet Estates, he saw with fatal clearness Kitty's sacrifice might very well be made in vain, and that some other client might, and almost certainly would, bring about the exposure and ruin of the firm she had tried to save. Then, he asked himself, what was his own duty? Without doubt, he must stand by his father, and do what he could to help him. But how? The cause of all this disaster and calamity was Silwood, the man whom he had instinctively disliked and distrusted. It was Silwood who had ruined the firm. It was through Silwood, indirectly, that he had lost Kitty. And Silwood was dead! From his grave he defied them all to touch him; there was nothing to be done to a dead man, Gilbert reflected, drearily. But was that altogether true? The lips of the dead man were for ever sealed; but had he left nothing behind him? The Eversleigh firm had been a great one, and to make away with all its funds and properties could have been no small business, but one which involved a large number of transactions. Surely there must be notes, traces, indications of these transactions somewhere. Thousands and thousands of pounds from sales of shares, and house or land property could not be got or disposed of without leaving some mark. So Gilbert reasoned. And he resolved to urge his father, therefore, to have everything connected with Silwood's department thoroughly investigated at once. And then he thought of his father. "Cast your mind back to that Saturday," his father had said. Measured by what his father must have suffered, that Saturday seemed ages ago. Poor unhappy father! A great wave of pity for him flooded the heart of the son, who now reproached himself bitterly for having spoken no word of sympathy. "I must go to him," he said, rising from the bench, "and ask him to let me help him." A few moments later Gilbert stood once more in his father's room, his face no longer dark, but full of purpose. "When you told me what you did just now, father," said he, "I am afraid I did not behave very well. I was so taken up with myself that I had no consideration for you. It was wrong of me. I should have known you must have passed through a dreadful time, in which you have suffered agonies. And now, sir, I come to request you to permit me to assist you in every way I can."