"Yes, sir, if you please. I used to wish I might speak to you of it at the time, and get you to look at it in the light I saw it."

"Then, knowing the details, how could you, and how can you, fancy your father was not guilty? Remember, my boy, you have asked for this, and I wish to speak with all kindness. He was the only one connected with the office who could have done it. The clerks had not the opportunity."

"Who did do it I can't say, though I have a doubt; but my father it was not," answered George. "I'll tell you a little matter that happened, sir; not much, you'll say. A week or so before the explosion, I was doing my Latin exercise one evening in the study at home, when papa came in and sat down behind me. He was very quiet, and I forgot he was there; but when I got up to put my books away I saw him. He was leaning forward with his elbow on his knee, pulling at his whiskers, as he would do when in deep thought; and he must have been like that, quite still, all the time. 'What are you thinking of, papa?' I said; 'what's the matter?' He came out of his reverie then, and put his hand upon my shoulder in his fond manner. 'The matter's this, George,' he said, 'that I have a suspicion something wrong is going on in the office, and I cannot make out how, where, or what. I am not up to business, and that's the truth. Either of my partners would find it out in no time.' 'Why don't you tell them, papa?' I asked. 'I am waiting till the sixth of next month, George,' he said; 'that may put things straighter than, to my mind, they are. If it does not, I shall speak to Mr. Trace.' But, you know," added George, his great eyes suddenly becoming wet, "that before the sixth of the next month—September—he was dead. Mr. Loftus, I could stake my own life that he was sincere when he said that."

Mr. Loftus made no comment. It was the sixth of each month that they used to balance up their accounts.

"After he was taken back to prison the day of the examination," continued George, "they let me go in to see him. I was with Mr. Hopper, and he took me in. I burst out crying. Papa laid hold of my hand, very grave and kind; 'George, I am perfectly innocent,' he said, 'do not distress yourself. I am a little bewildered at present, it's true; and I must understand what the frauds have been, and how committed, before I can refute them. You remember my saying to you, George, that I had a doubt; I wish I had spoken at once, instead of waiting to see whether I was right or wrong. I wish I had telegraphed to the Isle of Wight for Mr. Loftus, and had the whole thing investigated. But that must be done now. Tell your mamma from me, that it is all right; tell her it is a mistake, or something worse, on the part of those who have charged me. My boy, you have never had cause to blush for your father, and you have none now.' I was sent out then, Hopper telling me to wait outside for him, while he spoke with papa. He came out soon, and I went home, and—"

George Paradyne broke down. He leaned his head on the dressing-table and fairly sobbed. Mr. Loftus touched him gently, and said a soothing word.

"In an hour or two after that, word was brought that he was dead," presently resumed George. "He died with the suspicion of the guilt upon him, and nobody cared to refute it. I talked to Hopper till he said I worried him, asking him to take it up. I went and saw Mr. Trace, and told him all this, but he only shook his head, and spoke kindly to me, and said there was no doubt. I knew there was no doubt, but it was the other way; no doubt of his innocence."

"Will you let me ask you one question, George? If your father was not guilty, who, in your opinion, was?"

"I don't much like to say," was the answer. "And at the best, it is but a doubt."

"I think you had better say it."