Dora followed Trimmer's lead up the stairs, and entered the death chamber with noiseless tread. The dying man was lying propped up with pillows as usual. One side of him was already at rest forever; but his right hand, with which he had written his last letter and signed the lying statement which was to absolve his grandson, was lovingly fingering a large bundle of bank-notes that Mr. Barnby, by request, had brought up from the bank. On a chair by the bedside, account-books were spread in confusion, and one--a black book with a silver lock--was lying on the bed. The physician stood on one side, half-screened by the curtains of the bed. Herresford beckoned Dora, who approached tremblingly. The old man crumpled up the bank-notes, and placed them in her hand, murmuring something which she could not hear. She bent down nearer to his lips. "For Dick--for present use--to put himself straight." "I understand, grandfather." The miser made impatient signs to her, which the doctor interpreted to mean that he desired her to kneel by his bedside. She dropped down, and her face was close to his; she could feel his breath upon her cheek. "I'm saying--good-bye--" "Yes." "To my money.... All for you.... You'll marry him?" "Yes." "No mourning--no delays--no silly nonsense of that sort." "It shall be as you wish." "Marry at once. And my daughter--beware of her. A bad woman. I saved it from her clutches. It's there." He pointed to the account-books. "If I hadn't taken care of it for her, she would have squandered every penny--can't keep it from her any longer. Plenty for you and Dick. You'll take care of it--you'll take care of it? You won't spend it?" he whined, with sudden excitement. Dora passed her hand over his hair, and soothed him. He moaned like a fretful child, then recovered his energies with surprising suddenness. He seized the little black account-book with the silver lock. "It's all here," he cried, holding up the volume with palsied hand. "It runs into millions--millions!" The doctor shook his head at Dora, as much as to say, "Take no notice; he is wandering." Trimmer now interrupted, entering the room abruptly. "Mrs. Swinton, sir, wishes to see you at once, on urgent business," he announced. "Send her away!" cried the old man, throwing out his arm, and hurling the book from him so that it slid along the polished floor. He made one last supreme effort, and dragged himself up. "Send her away," he screamed. "Liar!--Cheat!--Forger!--Thief! She sha'n't have my money--she sha'n't--" The words rattled in his throat, and he fell forward into Dora's arms. She laid him back gently, and, after a few labored moments, he breathed his last. The daughter, unable to brook delay, and furious at Trimmer's insolent opposition to her will, entered the room at this moment. "Why am I kept away from my father?" she cried. "Your father is no more," whispered the physician, gently.