"I deny its validity!" repeated the attorney; "it's an infamous forgery, fabricated by that man, William Bowen. I defy any living creature to prove that Philip Treverton paid me one hundred thousand dollars."
"Beware, Silas Craig!" said a voice from the interior of the apartment. "You defy the living, do you also defy the dead?"
A man emerged from the shadow of the curtains about the window. That man was the elder of the two gold-diggers; but he was no stranger to those assembled there.
"The dead!" gasped Silas, dropping once more into his chair.
Those present never forgot the expression of the attorney's face, as with open mouth and protruding eyeballs, he stared at the newcomer.
It was but for a moment that they beheld the gaze of horror, for after one brief glance he covered his face with his outspread hands.
"The dead!" he repeated; "the dead!"
"Philip Treverton!" exclaimed Gerald Leslie.
"Yes, Gerald," answered the stranger, extending his hand to Cora's father; "that Philip Treverton whom you have been taught to think a gamester and a cheat. That Philip to whom, when about to sail for England, you intrusted a large sum of money, to be paid by him to that wretch yonder. You departed, secure in the belief that your friend and partner was a man of honor, and that the money was as safe in his hands as in your own. On your return you were told that your friend was dead, and that the money had not been paid. I have only learned to-day, from the lips of Bowen there, your noble and generous conduct. You uttered no word of complaint, no syllable of reproach, but you bore up to the last against the reverses brought upon you, as you thought, by the dishonor of another."
"Do not speak of that, Philip," said Gerald Leslie; "I attributed the loss of the money to some fatal moment of imprudence, and I never, even in thought, accused you of dishonor."