Cicely shook her head. "No, it isn't only a matter of money," she explained. "That's just the horrible part of it. It was because we thought that money might settle it that Pierce and I went to Bryanston Square last night. Then we learnt that the man who holds the bill is a bitter enemy of father's, and he vows that he'll show the whole thing up; it's no good offering to pay him, to meet the bill at maturity, or anything of that sort; he is a very rich man, and doesn't care what he loses. His one wish is to make things uncomfortable for the Clithero family, and he'll do it, too, for he's hard and cruel—a Jew."
"Who is this man?" asked Mostyn. "Do I know him?"
"Yes." It was Pierce who volunteered the information. "It's Isaacson, the fellow who owns Don Quixote."
"Isaacson!" Mostyn wrinkled his brows. "Isaacson is a hard nut to crack, and, as you say, money doesn't mean much to him. He's on the way to becoming a millionaire as it is, and if he's got a private spite—
"It's both a private and a business spite, I believe," Cicely declared. "I heard father speak of him, I remember, about a year ago, and of a row there had been between them in the City. And then, after that, they met at some dinner-party or other, and there was a scene. Father expressed his opinion in his usual forcible way, and I expect Mr. Isaacson did so, too. Anyway, they have never forgiven each other, and this is the result. Isaacson will show James up for what he is, and the whole family will be discredited."
"According to father, we have already disgraced the family," remarked Mostyn with some bitterness.
"Ah!" Cicely lifted her fair head, and a tear glistened in her eye. "He is a changed man now, Mostyn. You would be sorry for him if you saw him, indeed you would. I believe he realises the mistakes he made. He asked me after you, and his voice shook as he spoke—he is just a poor, broken-down old man, and I think his health is giving way. The wheels of time have ground our revenge for us, Mostyn."
Mostyn sat for a moment, thinking deeply. "You are right, Cicely," he said. "He is our father, and he acted justly according to his lights. It's not for us to bear malice. I'll tell you what I'll do——" He started up from his chair. "I'll go and see Isaacson at once. He lives in Portman Square, I believe, and if he's not at Epsom it's very likely that I shall find him. I'm bound to see him at the Derby to-morrow if I miss him to-day, but one can't talk 'shop' down there. Of course, I don't know that I can do anything, but I'll have a try."
"And go to father afterwards, will you, Mostyn?" Cicely rested her hand upon her brother's arm. "He will see you, I'm sure of it. His eyes were quite wistful when he spoke of you, though he did not ask me to bring about a meeting. And he will be grateful when he knows that you have tried to help him. He's never needed to turn to anyone for help and comfort before, and it's that, I think, more than anything else, that has broken him."
And so it was decided, and, after making their arrangements for the following day, Pierce and Cicely took their departure. Cicely was to spend the whole day with her father, while Pierce was to meet Mostyn in Eaton Square, whence, as the year before, they were to go down to Epsom on Sir Roderick's coach.