"Yes, to my undoing," he told her grimly. "I trusted him to the utmost, and—and he has betrayed my trust."
She started at that, but instantly controlled herself. "In what way?" she asked him, her voice scarcely above a whisper.
He drew the cheque-book to him. "If you look at this cheque and the next," he said, "you will see that there is one missing. There has been a cheque taken out."
"Yes?" said Chris.
Her eyes rested for a moment upon the cheque-book, and returned to his face. They held a curious expression as of relief and doubt mingled.
"That is how he betrayed my trust," he told her quietly. "He used that cheque to forge my signature and withdraw a sum of money from my account which under ordinary circumstances I should probably never have missed. As he is aware, I keep a large account, and I am in the habit of drawing large cheques. As it chanced, the account was not quite so large as usual, and it did not quite cover the amount withdrawn. Consequently my attention was called to it, and I looked into the matter and discovered—this."
"Yes?" said Chris. "Yes?"
She was breathing very fast. It was evident that her agitation was getting beyond her control.
He clasped her hands closer, with a warm and comforting pressure. He knew—or he thought he knew—what this revelation would mean to her. Had not Bertrand been even more her friend, her trusted counsellor, than his own?
"That is all the story, dear," he said gently. "We have got to face it as bravely as we can. He will leave in the morning, so you need not see him again."