He was interrupted by Marjorie calling to Rupert. "You're wanted at Post Bridge Hall at once," she told him. "Father is there, and they've sent a servant over to ask you to go up."
Rupert swore under his breath. "What on earth can the matter be? You don't think anything has happened to—the old man?"
Marjorie shook her head. "I don't think so. The message is simply that you're wanted."
Rupert put on his hat and hurried down the path which led to the main road. Crossing Post Bridge he turned to the right and soon found himself in the avenue that led to the Hall. It was situated fairly high up under the shadow of the tors and surrounded by trees. Lights shone cheerfully from all the windows. Before he could ring the front-door bell Sir Reginald Crichton stepped out and met him.
"Sorry to trouble you," he said curtly; "but the matter is rather important. Do you mind coming up to my study?"
Rupert followed, wondering what had happened. To his relief he saw his father standing with his back to the fireplace.
Sir Reginald shut the door, then sitting down an old oak bureau motioned Rupert to a seat. But the latter remained standing.
"Perhaps you will explain," said Sir Reginald, looking at John Dale.
Rupert looked from one man to the other, and he noticed that his father's face was pale, the features drawn. Before speaking Dale cleared his throat nervously.
"It's about that cheque I sent you eight days ago. Just before you left London. A cheque for five pounds which Sir Reginald drew and made payable to me. It wasn't crossed, so I endorsed it and sent it to you."