"Kleinwort, I am afraid you are a great rogue," observed Mr. Werner severely.

"Ditto to you half countryman of mine own," answered the other raising his hat with a gesture of mock deference. "Have you been to St. Vedast to-day? No. Neither have I. Seemed best, I thought, to leave poor Forde to digest that neat little paragraph in the 'Times' without disturbance!"

"It will be a bad thing for him, I am afraid," remarked Werner.

"It will be a bad thing for me, which is matter of much more interest to Bertram Kleinwort," was the answer. "That accursed Benning and thrice-accursed partner of the Christian wolf,--how I wish they were both hanging on a gibbet higher than Haman's, and that I was big man enough to pull their legs!"

Having giving utterance to which Christian desire Mr. Kleinwort departed, leaving even Werner astonished at the tone of deadly hatred he concentrated in one sentence.

"I believe you would do it too, you little devil," he decided. "Well, I will go and tell Forde about the mine, and give him a chance of selling."

But Mr. Forde was not at the wharf.

"He had received a letter by the second post," explained one of the clerks, "which obliged him to start at once for Newcastle."

Mr. Werner smiled. He understood the cause of that sudden journey, but he only said, "I will look round again on Friday."

But when Friday came, it was useless for him to do so. The shares in that especial mine were a drug in the market. Every one was hastening to sell, and no man could be found to buy.

Meantime, however, fortune, which never proves more utterly capricious than when we believe ourselves down for life in her black books, had relented and done Mr. Forde a gracious turn.

On the occasion of that meeting in behalf of the heathen, to which Mr.

Forde referred so contemptuously, Samuel Witney, Esq., took the chair, and after various missionaries and others interested in the good work had addressed the assemblage, and votes of thanks had been returned to everybody for something, proposed to his dear brother in religion that, as they must return to their respective homes from the Waterloo Station, they should walk thither together.

Perfectly well Mr. Asherill understood the reason of this suggestion, and for one moment he hesitated whether he should not charter a cab to the City and tell Mr. Witney the literal truth, namely, that he generally travelled to and from his snug villa residence _via_ the North London Railway.

But immediately he decided to face the difficulty. Sooner or later his fellow Christian was certain to question him about Mortomley, and the sooner he did so, the less difficulty there might be in answering his inquiries.

"I was very much surprised to see in the 'Times' this morning that Mr.

Mortomley had gone into liquidation," began Mr. Witney.

"Sad affair, is it not?" said Mr. Asherill, feeling his way.

"It is sad for us. We are creditors, as of course you are aware."

"I have been given to understand as much, but I am glad to know that you are not creditors for any large amount, that is, I mean for anything serious. A few thousands is of course a bagatelle, to a great concern like the General Chemical Company."

"Humph!" ejaculated Mr. Witney. He did not care to say the loss if total would mean half dividend or none at all, and yet still he was too much exercised in spirit to be able to remain silent under the grievance.

"One does not like to lose even a comparatively small sum," he observed at length.

"That is quite true," agreed Mr. Asherill, casting about in his own mind to find the real reason why Forde, Werner, and Kleinwort had all been so desirous to keep Mortomley on his feet.

According to Mr. Witney, the state of whose feelings Mr. Asherill read like a book, the colour-maker did not owe the Company such an amount as to warrant the fuss made over and the anxiety exhibited about his affairs.

"What is your opinion on the subject of dividend?" asked Mr. Witney after a pause.

"Well, I can scarcely be said to have an opinion," was the reply. "I have nothing to do with the matter. My young partner has it all in his own hands. I did not wish our firm to undertake the management of the affair."

"Why?" inquired Mr. Witney.

"I really could scarcely tell you why," answered Mr. Asherill, "except that I have my whims and fancies, as some people would call them.

Mortomley's father was a friend of mine, and although a member of the Church of England, a thorough Christian. He was, I assure you,"

continued Mr. Asherill, as his companion shook his head in a manner which might either have expressed disbelief or a desire to imply that wonders would never cease. "He gave me a helping hand once, when help meant more than it usually does" ('more than you would have given your brother,' added Mr. Asherill mentally) "and I did not like the notion of winding up the son. One never knows how sadly these things may end, and of course a trustee ought to have no personal feeling towards a bankrupt. He ought to be as impartial as justice herself. Mr. Swanland, however, has got the management of the estate, which from what I hear is a good estate, a very good estate indeed," finished Mr. Asherill unctuously, as though he were saying grace before partaking of a plenteous and well-served dinner.

"You think there will be a good dividend then?" suggested Mr. Witney.

"Well, I did hear," was the cautious answer, "some talk of twenty shillings in the pound, but that I do not credit. The expenses, go to work as we may, must be considerable, and then things may not fetch the prices expected; and, further, poor Mortomley is ill, and that is always a drawback; but if you get fifteen shillings, come now, you would not grumble then?"

"No, certainly; but we should like to see twenty," said Mr. Witney. "I will call round and have a talk with Mr. Swanland on the subject."

"Do," said Mr. Asherill cordially. "He will be able to tell you all about it, much better than I," and the two men having by this time arrived at Waterloo, they shook hands and blessed one another and proceeded to their respective trains, Mr. Asherill thinking as he went, "You do not know any more than I why your manager wanted this affair kept quiet, but you will know to your cost some day, or I am greatly mistaken."

After all, it is never the straws which know so well the way the wind is blowing as those who see them swept along with the gale.

"I give the Chemical Company another year," went on Mr. Asherill, mentally continuing the subject. "That I fancy will be about long enough for them."

And then he fell to considering whether he should like to have the winding up of the St. Vedast Wharf estate, and decided he should not, for the simple reason that he did not think there would be much estate left to wind up.

There is often a touching directness about the secret motives of professing Christians. Perhaps this may be the reason why carnal and unconverted creatures love so little those who love themselves and worldly prosperity so much.

CHAPTER X.

MR. SWANLAND WISHES TO BE INFORMED.

Meantime at Homewood a nice little storm was coming up against the wind.

Concerning misfortune, Kleinwort's theory may be accepted as correct. It is rarely the expected rain-fall, rarely the anticipated storm, which beats down the hopes of a man's life, destroys all the fair prospect of his future. In nine cases out of ten the tempest creeps out of some totally unlooked-for quarter; and behold ere one can quite understand that the morning sunshine is overcast, or the mid-day glory clouded, the heavens are opened, and out of them proceed lightnings and thunder and blinding tempests which blast every bud and flower and fruit a man has looked on with hope and pride, before he can realise the nature of the misfortune that has fallen upon him.

Now something of this kind occurred at Homewood, and it assumed the shape first of a most polite note from Mr. Swanland, asking Mrs.

Mortomley if she could oblige him by calling at his office at eleven o'clock on the next morning, Saturday, as he was unable to go to Homewood, and there were two or three matters about which it was necessary for him to see her, and next of the following:

"St. Swithin's Lane, E.C.

"September 29th, 187--.

"Mrs. Mortomley, "Homewood.

"Madam,

"A Mr. Benning has been with us to make some inquiries concerning the moneys bequeathed to you by Miss Dollabella Chippendale, of which our Mr. Daniells is trustee. In Mr. Daniells' absence we have deferred answering these inquiries, but we think it might be advisable for you to request your solicitor to call upon us with reference to this matter, Mr. Benning, as we understand, being only engaged about some liquidation affair in which Mr. Mortomley is concerned.

"Your obedient Servants, "HERSON, DANIELLS, AND CO."

Dolly sat and pondered over these letters as she had sat and pondered over the letter signed John Jones, mentioned in a very early chapter.