“You ha’ stole my daughter!”
Clement winced. She had told him, then.
“And now you ha’ stole my money!”
“That, at least, is not true!” He held up his head. He stepped forward and laid his hand on the table. “That is not true,” he repeated firmly. “Yon do not know my father, Mr. Griffin, though you may think you do. He would see the bank break a hundred times, he would see every penny pass from him, before he would do this that you say has been done. Your nephew told us what I have told you, and we believed him—naturally we believed him. We never suspected. Not a suspicion crossed my father’s mind or mine. We saw the certificates, we saw the transfer, we knew your handwriting. It was in order, and——”
“And you thought—you ha’ the impudence to tell me that you thought that I should throw thousands, ay, thousands upon thousands into the gutter—to save your bank?”
“We believed what we were told,” Clement maintained. “Why not—as you put the question, sir? Your nephew had five thousand pounds at stake. His share in the bank was at stake. He knew as well as we did that with this assistance the bank was secure. We supposed that for his sake and the sake of his prospects——”
“I don’t believe it!” the Squire retorted. “I’ll never believe it. Your father’s a trader. I know ’em, and what their notion of honesty is. And you tell me——”
“I tell you that a trader is nothing if he be not honest!” Clement cried hotly. “Honesty is to him what honor is to you, Mr. Griffin. But we’ll leave my father’s name out of this, if you please, sir. You may say what you like of me. I have deserved it.”
“No,” said Josina.
“Yes, I have deserved it, and I am ashamed of myself—and proud of myself. But my father has done nothing and known nothing. And for this money, when he learns the truth, Mr. Griffin, he will not touch one penny of it with one of his fingers. It shall be returned to you, every farthing of it, as soon as we can lay our hands on it. Every penny of it shall be returned to you—at once!”