“The alterations are in Hugh’s handwriting.”
“Impossible,” Hugh cried indignantly—contemptuously too.
Stephen said very quietly, “I don’t believe it.”
“I can convince you.” Their uncle opened the ledger, one hand on its pages, the other on the jade weight.
Helen sat proudly apart, but the brothers hurried to him. Hugh threw himself in a chair at the table where the book lay, Stephen stood behind his brother, his hand on his shoulder.
There was a significant pause.
Stephen shook his head. “It is very like,” he said slowly.
Bransby turned to another page. “And this?”
“Oh, yes, it is. It is very like too.” Stephen’s reluctance was apparent and deep. And a hint of conviction escaped him.
“There is no need to go further,” Bransby said wearily. “These were made when the money was taken.”