“You have been very good to me,” he murmured, in excuse for his presumption. And what could she say in rebuke that would not be churlish and ungracious?
At last, he was allowed to see Mr. Barnby, the manager at the bank, who came with a sheaf of letters and arrears of documents needing signature. The patient declared that he was not yet capable of attending to details, but he wanted to see the check signed by Herresford and presented by Dick Swinton.
“Which check?” asked Mr. Barnby; “the one for two thousand or the one for five thousand? I have them both.”
“There are two, then?”
Ormsby’s eyes glistened.
“Yes, with the same strange discoloration of the ink. This is the one; and I have brought the glass with me.”
Ormsby examined Mrs. Swinton’s second forgery under the magnifier, and was puzzled.
“The addition has been cleverly made. The writing seems to be the same. Whose handwriting is it—not Herresford’s?”
“It seems to be Mrs. Swinton’s. Compare it with these old checks in his pass-book, and you will see if 92 I am not right. She has drawn many checks for him and frequently altered them, but always with an initial.”
“Yes, the check was drawn by Mrs. Swinton in her father’s presence, no doubt; and young Swinton may have added the extra words and figures. An amazingly clever forgery! You say he had all the money?”