"Oh!" said Mr. Benning. He was beginning to recollect something about Fleck, Handley and Co., and their London representative also.
"A large firm in a large way," continued Mr. Forde. "They have extensive transactions with the G. C. C. Limited."
"Which fact in itself is a proof of respectability and solvency," added Werner with his bitter tongue.
"Ah! but they are not accountants," commented Mr. Benning, affecting unconsciousness of the sneer. "And we must have an accountant, or we shall meet with no end of difficulty. The position of affairs, as I understand it, is this: Mr. Mortomley is either unable to go on or else wishes to stop. The result is the same, let the cause be which it may. He wishes the affair kept quiet or some of his creditors do. To effect this object he wishes me to act for him in the matter. Now, if I am to do so effectually, it is needful for us to have a trustee about whose bona fides there can be no question. It is not enough for us that a man is a very honest fellow or useful or expedient. We must have some one with a known name accustomed to this sort of work. It is perfect waste of time racking our brains to think which Dick or Tom or Harry will answer our purpose best. We can have no Dick or Tom or Harry. This is not a small affair, and the Court will require some responsible man to take the management of such an estate."
"There is no estate to manage," interposed Mr. Forde. "The whole thing has been muddled away, or made away with."
"If that be your real opinion, the whole thing had better go into bankruptcy at once," said Mr. Benning.
"No—no—no—no, not at all; by no means, no," exclaimed Mr. Kleinwort as the lawyer rose as if intending to depart. "That must not be. I, Kleinwort, say no. Forde is rash—rash. He knows not what is good or best. He talks beyond the mark."
"Come, Forde, reckon up your respectable acquaintances, and tell us the name of the blackest sheep you know amongst the accountant tribe," suggested Mr. Werner. "Your experience has been large enough, Heaven knows."
"Will you stop jeering or not?" asked Mr. Forde. "Considering Mr. Mortomley is your bosom friend, I think the way you talk of this matter scarcely decent."