“How?” she asked gently. It was better to rouse him, to force him to face it, and as speedily as possible to make up his mind to what must be done next.
He shivered slightly, then made an impatient gesture as if he would fain push aside her enquiries and her sympathy. But she persisted bravely.
“How has it all been?” she asked. “Whom did you see?”
“The old clerk, Lee,” he replied; “he is heart-broken. All his savings gone, and the disgrace, which I verily believe he feels more. As I should if I were alone. Good God! why did I bind that poor child’s fate to mine! To think of it all. Baldwin’s Bank—mv poor father’s bank—to have come to this! It is an utter, complete smash, a perfectly hopeless ruin. Some little trifle of Marion’s and Harry’s money I may possibly recover eventually. But mine is all gone—gone for ever. You see I was still legally a partner.”
“But how has it been caused?” Veronica enquired again.
“You may well ask,” he answered bitterly; that is the hideous part of it--to think that it has all been the work of that oily devil, and that he has taken himself off in time to escape the punishment he deserves. What I should have given him if the law hadn’t! Cursed scamp that he is!”
“Hush, Geoffrey,” pleaded Veronica. “I am not blaming you, my poor boy, but when you speak so violently you startle me, and make me so nervous I cannot think quietly, as I should wish, of what is to be done. Wrexham, I suppose, you are talking of?”
“Yes,” said Geoffrey; “I can’t name him. It is all his doing. His wealth ‘elsewhere invested’ was all moonshine. He has been left far too much to himself, Lee says, the other partner having perfect confidence in him. He has been speculating in the most reckless way, it now appears; and, foreseeing the inevitable crash, has laid his plans accordingly and taken himself off in time. It is suspected he has taken, in some form or other—(diamonds perhaps, like the fellow in that book Marion was reading—a fellow who wasn’t himself or was somebody else; I couldn’t make it out)—a comfortable provision for himself.”
“But when was all this discovered? Can’t he be traced?” asked Veronica, breathlessly.
“He had been away four days before anything wrong was suspected, replied Geoffrey. “He didn’t run it too fine, you see. He was to have returned three days ago with lots of money. When he didn’t come, and sent no letter, they began to get frightened. Mr. Linthwaite, the other partner, then thought it would be as well to look into things a little, and a nice mess they found. They did what they could then, of course; sent off for detectives and all the rest of it, by way of shutting the empty stable-door, but it’s useless. He’s had too clear a start, and even if they got him they would get nothing out of him. He’s prepared for that, Lee says. If he has made off with property in any form it will be too well hidden for us to get at it. My case is the worst, for Linthwaite’s wife has money settled on herself, elsewhere invested, and no one had property in the bank to anything like my amount. They kept the doors open for a day or two, and paid out the little they had, for one or two of the farmers in the neighbourhood happened to draw rather heavily on Tuesday. But yesterday evening they lost all hope of the scamp’s turning up, and didn’t even go through the farce this morning of taking down the shutters.”