"Let me finish, sir," Gerald begged hoarsely. "The note must be met. If I take it up on presentation, the matter ends there; but you can see the consequences if it's dishonored."
"They include your arrest and imprisonment. It's unthinkable that your mother and sister should be branded with this taint!" Mowbray clenched his hand. "The trouble is that I cannot find the money. You have already brought me to ruin."
There was silence for the next minute, and the lashing of the rain on the ship-lap boards sounded harshly distinct.
Gerald saw a possible way of escape, but, desperate as he was, he hesitated about taking it. It meant sacrificing his sister; but the way seemed safe. His father would stick at nothing that might save the family honor.
"There's Brand," he suggested, knowing it was the meanest thing he had ever done. "Of course, one would rather not tell an outsider; but he can keep a secret and might help."
"Ah!" Mowbray exclaimed sharply, as if he saw a ray of hope. Then he paused and asked with harsh abruptness: "Whose name did you use on the note?"
"Harding's."
Mowbray lost his self-control. Half rising in his chair, he glared at his son.
"It's the last straw!" he said, striking the table furiously. "How the low-bred fellow will triumph over us!"
"He can't," Gerald pointed out cunningly, using his strongest argument in an appeal to his father's prejudice. "He will know nothing about the note if I can take it up when due."