"Ah!" Cicely lifted her fair head, and a tear glistened in her eye. "He is a changed man now, Mostyn. You would be sorry for him if you saw him, indeed you would. I believe he realises the mistakes he made. He asked me after you, and his voice shook as he spoke--he is just a poor, broken-down old man, and I think his health is giving way. The wheels of time have ground our revenge for us, Mostyn." Mostyn sat for a moment, thinking deeply. "You are right, Cicely," he said. "He is our father, and he acted justly according to his lights. It's not for us to bear malice. I'll tell you what I'll do----" He started up from his chair. "I'll go and see Isaacson at once. He lives in Portman Square, I believe, and if he's not at Epsom it's very likely that I shall find him. I'm bound to see him at the Derby to-morrow if I miss him to-day, but one can't talk 'shop' down there. Of course, I don't know that I can do anything, but I'll have a try." "And go to father afterwards, will you, Mostyn?" Cicely rested her hand upon her brother's arm. "He will see you, I'm sure of it. His eyes were quite wistful when he spoke of you, though he did not ask me to bring about a meeting. And he will be grateful when he knows that you have tried to help him. He's never needed to turn to anyone for help and comfort before, and it's that, I think, more than anything else, that has broken him." And so it was decided, and, after making their arrangements for the following day, Pierce and Cicely took their departure. Cicely was to spend the whole day with her father, while Pierce was to meet Mostyn in Eaton Square, whence, as the year before, they were to go down to Epsom on Sir Roderick's coach. Mostyn drove without any delay to David Isaacson's house, and he was lucky enough to find the financier at home. As he had expected, he found the house a particularly luxurious one. The door was swung open by two liveried and powdered flunkeys, while a grave butler appeared to enquire his business. The hall was lavishly decorated in marble, and the room into which Mostyn was shown, although not on a large scale, was suggestive, even to the very smallest item, of ostentatious wealth. Yet it was not so many years, as Mostyn knew, since David Isaacson had occupied humble little offices somewhere off Regent Street, living and sleeping in a couple of dingy rooms just over them.