"Delves! Does he know it?"
"He does. And the man is keeping the secret out of consideration for us. Delves is good-hearted at bottom. Not but that I spoke a friendly word for him when he was made sergeant. It all tells."
"And Mr. Ashley?" she asked.
"There is no doubt that Ashley has some suspicion: the very fact of his not making a stir in it proves that he has. It would not please him that a relative—as Cyril is—should stand his trial for felony."
"How harshly you put it!" exclaimed Mrs. Dare, bursting into tears. "Felony."
"Nay; what else can I call it?"
A pause ensued. Mr. Dare resumed his restless pacing. Mrs. Dare sat with her handkerchief to her face. Presently she looked up.
"They said it was Halliburton's cloak that the person wore who went to change the cheque."
"It was not Halliburton's. It was Herbert's turned inside out. Herbert knew nothing about it, for I questioned him. He had gone out that night, leaving his cloak hanging in his closet. I asked him how it happened that his cloak, on the inside, should resemble Halliburton's, and he said it was a coincidence. I don't believe him. I entertain little doubt that it was so contrived with a view to enacting some mischief. In fact, what with one revelation and another, I live, as I say, in constant dread of new troubles turning up."
Bitter, most bitter were these revelations to Mrs. Dare; bitter had they been to her husband. Too swiftly were the fruits of their children's rearing coming home to them, bringing their recompense. "There must be a fatality upon the boys!" he reiterated. Possibly. But had neither parents nor children done aught to invoke it?