"I must see Eversleigh," he told himself, "and acquaint him with--everything." As he thought this, he half smiled, and his eyes for an instant had in them the same threatening gleam that had flashed upon Williamson. Next he went to the large japanned box that stood in the corner, and touching a spring cleverly concealed in the moulding round its base, gained access to a narrow, shelf-like cavity at the bottom, which was stuffed with papers. From this secret place he extracted a folio sheet covered with figures, against which were various initials, "M.T." being conspicuous from their frequency amongst them. He went over this document very carefully, added up the figures opposite the "M.T."s, and put down the total on his pad. "A quarter of a million," he whispered almost aloud. "It's an immense sum. What a thing to have to tell Eversleigh!" Then he folded up and replaced the sheet of figures in the receptacle hidden at the bottom of the big box, but when he tried to close up the aperture he experienced great difficulty in getting the spring to act; finally, however, he succeeded. "I ought to see to that at once," he said with decision, "but I dare not." He now proceeded to skim over the rest of his correspondence with extraordinary rapidity but with little real attention; at the back of his mind he was still occupied with the return of Morris Thornton. All at once a thought struck him. "I wonder if Kitty Thornton has heard from her father by the same post? If so, she may know the date on which to expect him," was what he said to himself, adding, "if she knows, Eversleigh will know." For Miss Kitty Thornton lived practically as a member of the family of Francis Eversleigh, the senior partner of the firm. Silwood went to the door of his room, opened it quietly, and looked out. A young and handsome man was springing lightly up the stairs; the two men exchanged somewhat cold nods. "Good morning, Gilbert," said Silwood, but without much cordiality. "Good morning," returned the other, with a distant air. "Going up to see your father, I suppose?" asked Silwood. "Yes. Mr. Williamson, whom I met in the square, told me he was in," replied Gilbert Eversleigh, and with another nod went on upstairs. "I'll just give you five minutes," said Silwood, under his breath, addressing the back of the unconscious Gilbert, who knocked at a door on the second floor and was admitted. "I thought I'd look in, sir, to ask how they all are at home," said Gilbert to his father, Francis Eversleigh. Gilbert had his own chambers in the Temple, of which he was a member, and for the past three years had not lived at his father's house in Surbiton. Francis Eversleigh gazed at his son before answering the implied question, and a father's pride expressed itself clearly in his face. The son was dear to the father's heart.