"Dear, dear--that is very serious. I should take the money to the bank, and see what they can do. If the police have knowledge of the felony, they may take action on their own account, but these things can often be hushed up. I should advise you to see the responsible person at the bank. Do you know him?" "Oh, yes, he's a friend--at least I'm afraid he's not much of a friend to my son." "Well, it's a matter where a solicitor had better not interfere. The fewer people who have cognizance of the fact that the law has been broken, the better." "I'll do as you advise. I'll see Mr. Ormsby to-day. You are quite sure, Mr. Jevons, that you've made no mistake about my mother's money. Oh, it's too wonderful--too amazing!" "I am quite sure. I went thoroughly into the matter at the time, and it will give me the greatest pleasure to act for you against Mr. Herresford. If it should come to a suit, there can only be one issue." "I will see father myself," observed Mrs. Swinton, with her teeth set and an ugly light in her eyes. "Mr. Jevons, you will come down to-morrow to see us, or next day?" "To-morrow, at your pleasure. I'll bring a copy of the will, and prepare an exact calculation of the amount of your claim. Good-morning, Mrs. Swinton. I am pleased to have brought the color back to your cheeks. You looked very pale when you came in." "It's the forgery--the dreadful business at the bank that frightens me." "Do your best alone. I am sure your power of persuasion cannot fail to melt the hardest heart," the lawyer protested, with his most courtly air. "The circumstances are peculiar. But I will try." Mrs. Swinton reentered her cab with a strange mixture of emotions. As she drove through the crowded thoroughfares, her feelings were divided between indignant rage against her father and joy at the thought of John Swinton's troubles ended, the luxury and independence of the future, Netty no longer a dowerless bride, Dick a man of wealth without dependence upon his grandfather. It is astonishing how soon one gets accustomed to a sudden change of fortune. The novelty of the situation had worn off by the time the home journey was finished. She was again in the grip of overwhelming fear. The horrible dread of a prosecution stood like a spectre in her path. On her arrival at the bank, she found the doors closed; but she rang the bell so insistently that, at last, a porter appeared. And she even persuaded that grim person to violate all rules, and take her card to Vivian Ormsby, who was conferring with Mr. Barnby. In the end, she triumphed, and was admitted to the banker's private room. CHAPTER XXVII ORMSBY REFUSES