Gilbert Eversleigh walked out of his father's office, and finding an unoccupied bench in the neighbouring Lincoln's Inn Fields, sat down to ponder this terrible and altogether unexpected situation.

First, he tried to grasp the facts which had just been thrust upon him, and to see them in all their bearings.

There was no question now but he must relinquish all thoughts of Kitty Thornton. The sacrifice the girl was making for him and his father filled him with a feeling of worship of her into which there entered something sacred. In his mind he placed her on an altar, as it were, and could have fallen down before her in adoring homage of that lofty spirit of loyalty she had shown. Now that he knew all, he determined to write to thank her for what she had done. So far as he was concerned, it must be his part, he told himself, to make her sacrifice no harder. Therefore he must abide by her decision and accept it.

Gilbert was a young man, with all the high hopes and the hot passions of youth, and it was not without the deepest pain that he thought of her and his vanished happiness. It was natural that he should first think of her and of his own loss. But once he accepted her decision, he resolved to lock away her image in his heart, and to cherish it there in secret. Having got himself into this frame of mind, he passed on to consider his father's position.

The greatness and importance of the firm of Eversleigh, Silwood and Eversleigh, solicitors, had never for a single instant been doubted by Gilbert, until his father's declaration had swept away that greatness and importance for ever. All his life Gilbert had believed his father's firm was as enduringly established as the Bank of England; he regarded it as a permanent institution. It was difficult for him to realize it was nothing now but a bankrupt concern. When he did realize it, and remembered the obligations of the firm which must exist over and above those arising out of the Thornton and Bennet Estates, he saw with fatal clearness Kitty's sacrifice might very well be made in vain, and that some other client might, and almost certainly would, bring about the exposure and ruin of the firm she had tried to save.

Then, he asked himself, what was his own duty? Without doubt, he must stand by his father, and do what he could to help him. But how?

The cause of all this disaster and calamity was Silwood, the man whom he had instinctively disliked and distrusted. It was Silwood who had ruined the firm. It was through Silwood, indirectly, that he had lost Kitty. And Silwood was dead! From his grave he defied them all to touch him; there was nothing to be done to a dead man, Gilbert reflected, drearily.

But was that altogether true? The lips of the dead man were for ever sealed; but had he left nothing behind him? The Eversleigh firm had been a great one, and to make away with all its funds and properties could have been no small business, but one which involved a large number of transactions. Surely there must be notes, traces, indications of these transactions somewhere. Thousands and thousands of pounds from sales of shares, and house or land property could not be got or disposed of without leaving some mark.

So Gilbert reasoned.

And he resolved to urge his father, therefore, to have everything connected with Silwood's department thoroughly investigated at once. And then he thought of his father. "Cast your mind back to that Saturday," his father had said. Measured by what his father must have suffered, that Saturday seemed ages ago. Poor unhappy father! A great wave of pity for him flooded the heart of the son, who now reproached himself bitterly for having spoken no word of sympathy.

"I must go to him," he said, rising from the bench, "and ask him to let me help him."

A few moments later Gilbert stood once more in his father's room, his face no longer dark, but full of purpose.

"When you told me what you did just now, father," said he, "I am afraid I did not behave very well. I was so taken up with myself that I had no consideration for you. It was wrong of me. I should have known you must have passed through a dreadful time, in which you have suffered agonies. And now, sir, I come to request you to permit me to assist you in every way I can."

"Gladly, my boy; but how can you? What is there that any one can do? I am like a sinking ship," said Eversleigh, mournfully.

"Will you tell me if you have overhauled Mr. Silwood's books and papers?"

"No, I have not. I began, but desisted."

"Why, father?"

"Because I thought Williamson was suspicious. I felt sure that he was watching me. So I stopped, and allowed things to drift."

"But, father, the only chance you have lies in making this investigation. If Williamson is in the way, he must be got rid of."

"Would not that in itself excite remark?"

"Not necessarily, surely. But if his going does cause remark, we shall just have to put up with it. Besides, we can give him an excellent character and a gratuity—these will salve his feelings."

"But what excuse can I make?"

"Can you not say you are going to make extensive changes, owing to Mr. Silwood's death?"

"He has been such a long time with us," objected Eversleigh.

"Yes, I know; but you cannot afford to keep a man who suspects you. At any cost, he must go."

"He is a good clerk," began Eversleigh.

"I wonder if he really is!" exclaimed Gilbert. "If he was such a good clerk, how was it that he did not know of Silwood's defalcations?"

"Perhaps he does know."

"If he does, it would be well to be sure of it. Have him in now, and tell him he is to go. If he knows anything he will speak out."

"You are so impetuous," said Eversleigh, feebly.

"I have a strong feeling," replied Gilbert, "that your safety lies in immediate action."

"And what would be your next step?"

"I should get in an accountant familiar with legal work, and have him go over all Silwood's books and papers. Silwood cannot have disposed of all the moneys and properties of the firm without leaving some indication of how he did it; and perhaps an investigation may reveal that things are not so bad as you think. He cannot have disposed of everything. For instance, there must be certain trusts and other matters with which he could not tamper. Suppose we try to look into them all, father."

A spark of hope shone for a moment in Eversleigh's eyes, but it speedily went out.

"I am quite willing, Gilbert, but I am afraid it will not be any use," he said, dejectedly. "Whom would you think of getting to examine the books and papers?"

"I fancy I know the very man. Young Archer Martin, of Roscoe and Martin."

"Could you depend on his discretion?"

"Absolutely."

Eversleigh was silent. His impulse was to surrender himself to the guidance of his son; but he was sore afraid. Gilbert saw from his father's face that he was hesitating.

"There is no other way, father," he cried, with decision.

"Then be it so," agreed Eversleigh.

"And what about Williamson?"

"Can you not let him remain, at least, for a time?"

"I think not, sir."

"Well, well. I am not sure it is wise."

But Gilbert had no doubts, and in the end Williamson received a note saying that after that week his services would not be required. At the same time, the head-clerk was given a handsome cheque as a solatium.

Gilbert next set out for the office of Roscoe and Martin, where he was fortunate to find Archer Martin. As briefly as possible, Gilbert told him that he had reason to believe there had been some irregularities in his father's office, and that his father had deputed him to invite the accountant to make a searching investigation immediately, if that fitted in with his engagements.

"As it happens, it does; I can set to work to-morrow," said Martin.

"Of course," said Gilbert, "it is a confidential investigation—that is understood."

"Certainly," said the accountant, who had no idea that he might innocently be making himself a party to a fraud.

Archer Martin, accordingly, went to 176, New Square, the following day, and began his inquiries. Without referring to any one except Gilbert, he went on his way, steadily plodding through the books and papers of the firm. His labours extended over several days, but he had not gone very far when he saw the true character of the work he was engaged on. He knew there was being disclosed bit by bit a gigantic system of fraud which involved huge sums of money, and that the system had been practised remorselessly and with diabolical cunning and ingenuity for years. He saw that Cooper Silwood, by one means or another, had appropriated many thousands of pounds, though what he had done with the cash did not appear. It was plain he had stopped at nothing; there were false entries everywhere and many forgeries.

He wondered at the ability Silwood had manifested in keeping up appearances so long. It was evident to him, from various sums of interest being paid to clients at the proper time, as if their investments still remained, that Silwood had kept a strict account of his robberies, but though he searched in Silwood's room, throughout the rest of the office, and even in Silwood's apartments in Stone Buildings, for some book or memoranda relating to these robberies, he could not find it. He came to the conclusion that Silwood had either destroyed it or taken it with him. He had heard of Silwood's death as well as of the death of Morris Thornton, and now saw pretty clearly how matters stood.

Failing to light upon Silwood's memoranda, he tried to see what could be done by tracking out some of the larger transactions of the defaulting solicitor, which necessarily involved the names of other persons.

And this led him to make an extraordinary discovery, though he did not think it so extraordinary as it really was.

Amongst the names of persons having large transactions with Silwood, there occurred that of James Russell, described as of 99, Douglas Street, Stepney. In the aggregate, Silwood's dealings with this man came to a vast sum, and Archer Martin thought Douglas Street, Stepney, was a curious address for one who presumably must be very well off indeed.

All through his investigation he had been in close contact with Gilbert Eversleigh, and he now suggested some inquiries be made about Mr. James Russell, of 99, Douglas Street, Stepney. This Gilbert undertook to do himself.

Gilbert had some difficulty in finding Douglas Street, but eventually did find it. No. 99 turned out to be a humble house—not at all the kind of dwelling in which a man dealing with large sums of money was likely to reside. He discovered also that it was no longer occupied by Russell, that individual with his wife and crippled child having left it some time before; but he learned that they were poor people, living in a very poor way. And much more he could not learn.

"What, then, was the connection between Cooper Silwood and James Russell?" he asked himself. "Was Russell a confederate?"

But he could get no further than this supposition. He had to content himself with putting a private detective on the trail of James Russell, and awaiting results.