Suppose Mrs. Grant's account of the baronet's condition of mind in the less excited moments was overdrawn, and that while in his periods of delirium he was haunted by goblin fears of robbers, in his more collected phases he might be troubled with reasonable dread of theft or misappropriation or fraud. Did the old man desire to destroy or alter his will? That was the vital question. If he did, then surely the lead would overtake the gold. The gold! That gold could never be won back, not in as many years as it took the baronet to save it up. Not in twice as many years, and he might have no more than one year. The gold could never overtake the lead now--that is, the gold, the Consols. But the gold of a wedding-ring for Miss Midharst would balance the five-tons weight of the baronet's. Little over half an ounce of gold would outweigh five tons; a ring that cost no more than three guineas would balance a deficit of five hundred and fifty thousand pounds! Mrs. Grant softly opened the door of the sick chamber, and motioning someone inside to come near, she said, as Miss Midharst approached: "Maud, dear, here is Mr. Grey; he came at once." The girl offered him her hand, and Grey took it respectfully, tenderly, and held it, saying: "I am deeply grieved, Miss Midharst, at what Mrs. Grant tells me. I hope this may be only a temporary affection. How is Sir Alexander now?" "Oh, he's very, very bad!" sobbed the girl, in a whisper. "It was kind of you to come. He talks of you always." "I am, believe me, Miss Midharst, deeply grieved for him, and--you." Nothing could be more kind and sympathetic than his voice and manner. "He talks of nothing but you and the money," whispered the girl, through her tears. At that moment a shrill shout came from the bed, followed by the words: "Ah, Grey, is that you? You thieving scoundrel! Do you dare to come into my house, under my roof, after stealing my darling's fortune! Bring me my pistols, I say--some one bring me my pistols! I will shoot this miscreant banker Grey. My pistols, I say!" CHAPTER XI. BY THE STATE BED. For a moment Grey paused irresolutely on the threshold of the sick room. This was the most alarming ordeal to which he had been subjected. Could it be that by any untoward circumstance of disastrous fate the old man had discovered the truth? To be loudly, violently accused of the crime he had committed by the man whose money he had stolen, and in the presence of that man's daughter! He had often in his worst moments imagined the position he now occupied, but had never dared to think of, it had never entered his moments of wildest fear to realise, such a scene conducted in the presence of Miss Midharst and Mrs. Grant. And now to the horrors of hearing such words from the defrauded man's lips, was added the awful question, the appalling uncertainty in the questions: Did the baronet know anything? Did he know all?