"Here, draw it mild. I am your son."
"Unhappily. If your mother were not living you should be shown into the dock for the forgery."
"But she is alive. I shall not appear in the dock, and you may as well let me go. Look here, father, what's the use of crying over spilt milk?"
"Not much; and as I look upon you as hopeless, I would go on paying for it while your mother lived. If she were taken from me I should leave you to the punishment you deserve, and risk my name being dragged through the mire."
"I hope," said Chaytor, with vile sanctimoniousness, "that my dear mother will live till she is a hundred."
"There is, I must remind you, another side to the shield. I said 'as long as I can afford it.'"
"Well, you can afford it."
"I cannot," said Mr. Chaytor, with a sour smile. "My career snaps to-day, after paying this forged bill with money that properly belongs to my creditors. Newman Chaytor, you have come to the end of your tether."
"You are saying this to frighten me," said Chaytor, affecting an indifference he did not feel. "Why, you are rolling in money."
"You are mistaken. Speculations into which I have entered have failed disastrously. If you had not robbed me to the tune of thousands of pounds--the sum total of your villainies amounts to that--I might have weathered the storm, but as I am situated it is impossible. It is almost a triumph to me to stand here before you a ruined man, knowing you can no longer rob me."