The stranger smiled again the same cold smile. "The lenders wish to withdraw the loan," he said.
"They may do so—in a month," said Ewan.
"That will suffice."
The Deemster's face twitched; Mona's cheeks were wet with tears; the Bishop had risen and gone to the window, and was gazing out through blurred eyes into the blinding rain that was now pelting against the glass.
"It would be cruel to prolong a painful interview," said the stranger; and then, with a glance toward Dan where he sat convulsed with distress that he made no effort to conceal, he added, in a hard tone:
"Only the lenders came to have reasons to fear that perhaps the document had been drawn without your knowledge."
Ewan handed the paper back with a nerveless hand. He looked at the stranger through swimming eyes and said gently, but with an awful inward effort, "You have my answer, sir—I knew of it."
The stranger bowed and went out. Dan leaped to his feet and threw his arms about Ewan's neck, but dared not to look into his troubled face. Mona covered her eyes and sobbed.
The Deemster picked up his hat to go, and in passing out he paused in front of Ewan and said, in a bitter whisper:
"Fool! fool! You have taken this man's part to your own confusion."