Upon the Eversleighs the verdict at the inquest had various effects.

Mrs. Eversleigh had been completely upset by the discovery of the body of Morris Thornton in the private rooms of Silwood, her husband's partner, but she recovered quickly after the verdict, which dispelled a great multitude of nameless fears that had sprung up within her mind.

The presence of Kitty at the inquest had been entirely her own idea, and it had required courage of an almost desperate sort to carry it out. Her lover, seeing the strain the girl was putting on herself, tried to dissuade her from going, but she bravely persisted. When the verdict was given, and she witnessed the relief it afforded her friends, she felt far more than repaid. At the same time, the tragedy which closed her father's life lay heavy upon her. What helped her most to bear it was Gilbert's love and unfailing sympathy. And on the girl herself all these strange and painful events resulted in materially deepening and strengthening her character. Hitherto anything of the kind had been far removed from her.

With regard to Gilbert Eversleigh, he knew not what to conclude, as all attempts on his part to reason out the mystery of Stone Buildings invariably ended in confusion. He told himself that the secret of the affair was never likely to be revealed, and was not sure if he were glad or sorry this should be the case. Yet at times he had an uneasy feeling that perhaps, after all, there was more to come.

On the benumbed mind, on the half-paralyzed faculties, of Francis Eversleigh the verdict for a while acted like a charm; for a short time its effect on him was little short of magical.

He had believed that Cooper Silwood had murdered Morris Thornton; what he alone knew made the deed only too probable. To find, then, that there had been no murder was a relief to him beyond all words to describe. For a few days it nearly made a man of him. He saw that much was dark regarding the death of his old friend and client, and he was absolutely certain that in some way or other Silwood was mixed up in it; but to know that his partner had not actually been guilty of the blackest crime in the calendar had a beneficial influence on him.

The sanguine side of his nature, long overshadowed, now began to assert itself; he even whispered to himself that it was possible his ruin might be averted after all.

At first he feared that the standing of the firm might be so gravely compromised by the events which had taken place that its position would be rendered hopeless by the withdrawal of their business by its clients; but, when then they took no steps in this direction, the elasticity of his mind asserted itself more and more. As a matter of fact, a great deal of sympathy was expressed for him; several of his clients, indeed, went out of their way to assure him of their undiminished confidence and regard. No one for an instant suspected there was anything wrong with the firm. The death of Thornton was looked upon as an inexplicable fatality, that of Silwood as another.

In these reassuring circumstances he took heart of grace, plucked up courage, and said to himself that he must make a decided change in his own habits and methods, and must no longer be easy-going, careless, and unsystematic, but must work doubly hard, and do whatever lay in his power to save the situation. But a man's character is not changed in a day, and Francis Eversleigh, despite his brave resolutions, was, at bottom, the same Francis Eversleigh. And with all the heart in the world to retrieve lost ground, it was hardly possible for him to do it, even if his affairs had been in a different position.

His most pressing duty, he knew, was to make that examination into the business of his firm which he had purposed making earlier. One morning towards the end of the week in which the verdict was given, he came to his office determined to commence a thorough overhauling of his accounts, but his innate weakness prevented him from persevering. And, in addition to the slackness habitual to him, there was another reason that kept him back. And this reason was Williamson.

Had Eversleigh been a strong man, he would have made the death of his partner an excuse for this examination—so natural an excuse, in truth, that Williamson would have thought nothing of it. But he had not got very far in examining the books when he became aware that the head-clerk was following all he did with suspicious interest. The mere fact that Eversleigh was manifesting unusual activity was enough to excite surprise in Williamson. The first shock which the returning complacency of the solicitor received came from the thought that perhaps Williamson had a glimmering of the truth.

Then Eversleigh could not do much in the way of investigation without referring to Williamson for information. In any case, Eversleigh saw with fatal distinctness, that if this process were continued, the result could be no other than to put Williamson in possession of the whole circumstances of the firm. Conscious of this, his good resolves suffered eclipse, and he once more fell back on the desperate policy of letting things drift whither they would. But, for a week or two, matters at 176, New Square, Lincoln's Inn, went on as if nothing out of the common had happened, or was likely to happen. Francis Eversleigh, his son Ernest, the head-clerk Williamson, and the other clerks, occupied their accustomed seats in their accustomed rooms. People came and went as usual; deeds were prepared, documents drawn up, and all the machinery of the office seemed to be in excellent running order. No shadow of approaching doom darkened the firm's doors.

Still, Eversleigh knew that he could not continue his policy of drifting beyond a certain point. It was part of his unescapable misfortune that the severest pressure on him came in one way or another from members of his own unsuspecting family.

In the first place, it was necessary to get another partner in place of Silwood. This, on various pretexts, which gave him delay, he put off. He knew that Ernest must expect to be taken into partnership at this juncture when a suitable opportunity presented itself. But to make Ernest a partner meant involving the young man in the ruin of the firm—if ruin came, and Eversleigh in his heart now believed that it was inevitable—and he was minded not to do this if it could be helped. But it was difficult for him to resist the pressure brought to bear upon him. His wife spoke to him of Ernest, but he managed to quiet her with the promise that before long the matter would be satisfactorily arranged. And this was the easier, inasmuch as the poor lady, who had seen the improvement in her husband's state of health after the verdict, believed Ernest had only to wait a few weeks and all would be well.

But the improvement in Francis Eversleigh's bodily and mental health was only, could be only temporary. Already drifting like a rudderless ship, he might any moment founder on the rocks. Deeply involved in a course of equivocation and deceit, to which there could be but one end, unless some miracle occurred, the necessity of continuing in it, added to the other circumstances of his situation, soon changed the transient brightness of his spirits into the gloom of that settled and terrible melancholy which had descended upon him before. In vain he strove to fight against it, to overcome it; his efforts were utterly useless.

The most serious things he had to consider were the Thornton Estate and the Silwood Estate.

With regard to the latter, he well knew there was no such thing as a Silwood Estate at all, but he deemed it essential for the sake of keeping up appearances to make a pretence that there was such an estate—at least, until it became evident there was none. Here the "law's delays," of which he took full advantage, assisted him; but then there was Williamson endlessly curious and prying. Some of the questions he put to his principal were hard to answer, and drove Eversleigh to the verge of madness.

Silwood's room in the office, the japanned box—always excepting the secret cavity of which no one knew—the whole office, and finally Silwood's chambers in Stone Buildings, now free from the embargo of the law, had been carefully searched for the will of the dead solicitor; but no will had been found. Williamson openly said that the absence of a will in the case of a man who must have been rich, and who was a lawyer to boot, was a most singular thing. Undoubtedly it was this that suggested to the head-clerk something of the actual fact, namely, that there was a screw loose with respect to the financial position of the firm. But, as before, he had nothing definite to go on, and he never dreamed that the affairs of the house were in the desperate condition they really were.

But it was the Thornton Estate which troubled Eversleigh most of all.

Gilbert, as the affianced husband of Kitty, spoke to his father soon after the inquest about Morris Thornton's property, and asked him if Thornton's will was deposited in the office, or if the agents in Canada had it.

Francis knew there was a will in the office, and was tolerably sure no other was in existence, but Gilbert's query gave him a chance of standing him off on the whole subject for a considerable time. He snatched at it eagerly.

"We have a will of his," he said to his son, "but it was executed a good many years ago. I am, in the circumstances in which you stand towards Kitty, betraying no confidence when I tell you that by that will he left everything of which he was possessed to her. But it is quite possible there may be a later will. That is a matter for inquiry. It will certainly be necessary for us to wait till we hear from the agents in British Columbia. They have been apprized by cable and by letter of Mr. Thornton's death, and they must have seen something of it in the papers—the noise of it has gone round the world. But we must not move until we have heard from them. In the event of its being reasonably sure that there is no other will, we will, of course, submit the one we have to probate as soon as may be. I don't think we can do more at present."

"I understand," said Gilbert; "you will just observe the usual routine. I suppose it will be some weeks, perhaps a month or two, before anything further can be done. Still, I imagine you can get all the affairs of his that are in your hands into the best order."

"Oh," said Eversleigh, with an attempt at lightness, "that is all right. Mr. Silwood had charge of them, and now I have."

"I have no doubt, sir, they are all right," said Gilbert, unsuspiciously.

"Yes, yes. I should say in a month or six weeks we can go to probate, but it will depend, of course, upon what we hear from Vancouver. You may be sure there will be no unnecessary delay."

"I am certain of that," assented Gilbert, readily, unvisited by the slightest inkling of his father's state of mind.

Similar pretexts were used by Eversleigh in dealing with Ernest and Williamson. And so a little time was gained, but it was to very small purpose. Once more the strain on him was fast becoming past endurance.

A fortnight, three weeks, went by, and Eversleigh had relapsed altogether into his former condition of deepest dejection, to the alarm of his wife and relatives, who wondered what in the world could account for it. But though he had gained respites in the matters that disquieted him most seriously, he knew that at most and best they were but respites, and likely to be short ones. He saw the day of reckoning drawing nearer and nearer; that it should come in all probability through his son Gilbert and Kitty, whom he loved as his own child, was an aggravation of his sufferings.

It had been the custom of the Eversleighs to betake themselves to the seaside during the month of August, but this year, because of all that had happened, it had not been observed. Francis Eversleigh was entreated by his family to take a brief holiday, but he declined on the plea there was too much work at the office. He, on the other hand, besought his wife to go away for a change, but she would not, with the result that the Eversleighs and Kitty stayed on at Surbiton.

It was now that Kitty, more than all the rest, showed her affection for him by devoting herself assiduously to his comfort in the most marked manner. The girl was fond of him for his own sake, and was he not Gilbert's father? In many little ways she tried to cheer him, and to drive away the dark shadow that enveloped him. And all these loving attentions were so many fresh stabs to the miserable man.

As the days ran on, Eversleigh was a prey to constant apprehensions; he was haunted by the dread, from moment to moment, of something happening which would lead to exposure.

And come it did, but from an unexpected quarter.

It came in the form of a demand for a large sum of money, and it came from Harry Bennet, a man whom Eversleigh had almost forgotten, particularly as Harry had for some time been a stranger at Ivydene.

This demand meant ruin.