We left Mr. Jabez Duck, a few chapters back, in anything but a comfortable situation.

When he had recovered from his astonishment at the sight of his sister, Miss Jackson, and Mrs. Turvey, he endeavoured to stammer out that he’d be back in a moment, and made for the door.

But Georgina was too quick for him.

‘I must speak to you at once,’ she said, imperiously, ‘on private business.’ The accent on the word private was marked and intentional.

Mrs. Turvey took the hint.

‘Which if I am in the way, Jabez, let me go into another room while this person tells you her business.’

Now Mrs. Turvey knew very well that Georgina was Jabez’s sister, and Georgina was quite aware of Mrs. Turvey’s identity, but it pleased them both to affect the most supreme ignorance.

‘Jabez,’ exclaimed Miss Duck indignantly, ‘who is this female who addresses you so familiarly, and calls me a “person”?’

‘Who am I?’ gasped Mrs. Turvey, fairly roused by Georgina’s manner, and coming bustling up close to her. ‘I’ll let you know who I am, madam. I’m not a female. I’m a respectable hard-working woman, as isn’t going to be humbugged about any longer by your precious oily snake of a brother.’

‘Ladies, ladies!’ stammered Jabez, polishing his brow furiously, and bursting out into quite a watery shine with perspiration; ‘Pray, pray compose yourselves! The firm will hear you. Pray remember where you are!’

Jabez might as well have asked the north wind not to blow as Georgina and Mrs. Turvey to be quiet. They were fairly started on a race for the last word. Besides, weeks of pent-up scorn and indignation had to be worked off. In vain Jabez implored them to be silent. In vain Miss Jackson shed tears and urged Georgina, for her sake, to be calm.

At last, when it was within an inch of a single-stick duel between Georgina’s parasol and Mrs. Turvey’s umbrella, Jabez fairly lost his temper, and, rushing between them in time to receive both umbrella and parasol on his own unprotected and shiny bald head, seized the first combatant he could catch hold of, and dragged her away.

It was Mrs. Turvey.

That estimable lady, flushed, excited, and prepared for desperate deeds, no sooner saw Jabez, as she presumed, espouse his sister’s side, than with a terrific effort she became suddenly calm.

Smoothing her ruffled finery and assuming a delicately sarcastic tone, she thus delivered herself:

‘I’ll go, Mr. Duck—I don’t want to be pushed out; but I shall call again—not to see you, sir. I shall instruct Messrs. Grigg and Limpet to commence two actions at once, one for breach of promise against you, Mr. Duck, and one for deformation of character against you, Miss Duck; which you, ma’am,’ she added, turning to Miss Jackson, ‘will be a witness as this person have said vile and ojus things about me.’

‘Oh,’ moaned Miss Jackson, ‘don’t make me a witness! Oh, I would rather cut my right hand off than let it go into a court of justice against my dearest friend!’

‘Don’t be a fool, Carry!’ said Miss Duck curtly. ‘Jabez, show that old woman out, or I’ll go to the firm. I won’t be insulted by a servant any longer.’

Jabez had adroitly got Mrs. Turvey out of earshot, so that Georgina’s last arrow missed its mark.

He was some minutes before he returned. In the interests of peace he apologized to Mrs. Turvey, said his sister was to blame, and vowed on his honour to behave like a gentleman if Mrs. Turvey would only give him time.

Mrs. Turvey allowed herself to be mollified so far as Jabez was concerned, but departed vowing the fiercest vengeance against his ‘stuck-up minx of a sister.’

Georgina, when she had given her brother a thorough setting down over the Turvey incident, informed him of the visit of the police and the discovery of the Smiths’ real character.

Jabez for a time refused to believe it, but the evidence which his sister produced was circumstantial. Already his employers had discovered the forgery of which they had been the victims, and Jabez connected the two events.

When he got home that evening the same detective who had searched the rooms called to see him, and requested him to say nothing about the affair to any one for the present.

The reason he gave was that there was no knowing who belonged to the gang, and if it once got about that the police were on the track the others would keep out of the way.

In the hope of making a complete haul, the police for the present would take no steps to arrest the fugitive. If he was left alone, and not allowed to know that he was suspected, he would probably join some other members of the gang.

Jabez listened to this explanation and promised to hold his peace, and also to allow the things found in the room occupied by George to be taken to Scotland Yard.

The officer who had charge of the case was Sergeant Iveson, a well-favoured, middle-aged man, who looked like a country gentleman, and Jabez had every confidence in him. The officer also went to Grigg and Limpet, and received from them the forged cheque. They also agreed to take no steps which would clash with those arranged by Sergeant Iveson, who had sole charge of the case.

Late that evening Sergeant Iveson and Mr. Seth Preene met by accident, and what more natural than that they should have a little conversation?

‘Found out who he is yet?’ asked the sergeant.

‘No,’ said Preene; ‘but I’m sure he’s a swell, and he’s making quietly for his home, wherever it is. I suppose it’s sure to be pretty straight against him?’

‘I’ll take care of that,’ answered the sergeant. ‘But this case won’t pay, you know. There’s no reward. Won’t it be worth your governor’s while to pay a good one? You see if this chap’s convicted there’s an end to all inquiries about the forged cheques. You get him out of the way for a year or two and wipe the slate clean. I suppose the principal in the affair’s right, ain’t he?’

‘Right? I should think so,’ answered Mr. Preene. ‘Look here, governor, you nab this fellow, and make him safe for a year or two, and I’ll promise you a hundred on my own hook. Never mind about the woman; she’s never seen any of us, and can do no harm. She might complicate the case. I’ll say a hundred and fifty—there!’

With which magnificent offer Mr. Preene held out his hand to the sergeant, and shortly afterwards they parted.

Sergeant Iveson bided his time before he looked for the runaway, In the interests of the firm of Smith and Co., Mr. Preene desired him not to act too precipitately. Smith and Co. wished to remove all trace of their connection with certain city offices and financial transactions before that accomplished forger, Mr. George Smith, was put upon his trial.

Practically, for the present, the firm’s City business was dissolved. Brooks had gone down to Dover on an important matter, and Marston had followed him. Preene was in town, busy at his private residence over some mechanical operation in which he seemed to take a deep interest, and Josh Heckett had gone to a quiet little place in Surrey, for the benefit of his health.

It is singular that when he arrived with his travelling bag at a little inn some short distance from Heritage Park he wore the clerical garb. He was dressed in a suit of black, had on a white choker, and wore a clerical felt hat. He was accompanied by his son, a young gentleman, who treated his ‘governor’ in a most respectful manner. They didn’t talk much before the landlady, who waited on them, and they were very particular about their behaviour.

But when they went out for little strolls in the neighbourhood, the clergyman called his son ‘Boss,’ and garnished his conversation with strange, unclerical oaths. And Master Boss called his revered parent ‘Josh, ’and pattered to him in Mint slang, as though his education at the university had consisted of this very living language to the utter neglect of all the dead ones.