"Ah! how does that happen?" asked Mr. Forde, rising and walking eagerly towards the window.
"We met him," Rupert answered. "He asked what news, and I told him. He said it was the best thing could be done, and that if a friendly trustee were required he would not mind acting."
"I dare say not—I dare say not," observed Mr. Forde. "Now, sir," addressing Mortomley, "how much do you want to clear you? For what amount are these debts upon which writs are returnable? Things, if faced, are never very formidable. I dare say with good management, you can pull through without difficulty. First—" and he dipped his pen in the ink and drew a sheet of paper towards him.
At this crisis Rupert turned from the window and advanced towards the desk.
"One moment, if you please," he said, interrupting Mr. Forde's figure pattern of Mortomley's debts. "Archie," he went on, "you remember what I told you yesterday."
"Yes, I remember, Rupert; but—"
"But you did not believe me; never mind standing nice about words, that was what it came to. Now I know what the end of all this will prove. I know I and my father, God forgive us both, have brought you into this connection, out of which I fear nothing but utter ruin can now extricate you. Still there is one last chance left you, and I give it. Don't listen to another word that plausible gentleman speaks, but come away with me, and leave all the rest to your solicitor. Will you come? No. Then I go; but before we meet again, I, who now thoroughly understand Mr. Forde, say you will have done an hour's work you will repent to the last day of your life."
CHAPTER XII.
THE SAME DAY AT HOMEWOOD.
If the atmosphere of the City had proved trying to more than one person on that especial day when Mr. Forde felt it necessary to wonder what, in the event of Mortomley's failing, was to become of his—Forde's—wife and children, many people at Homewood had not found country air agree with them so well as usual.