Alone, Cecil's head sank down upon his hands.
"Oh, God!" he thought. "If it were anything--anything except disgrace!"
An hour later and the Seraph's servant brought him a message, asking him to come to Lord Rockingham's rooms immediately.
Cecil went, and the Seraph crossed the room with his hand held out; not for his life in that moment would he have omitted that gesture of friendship. There was a third person in the room, a Jew, M. Baroni, who held a folded paper, with the forged signature of Rockingham on it, and another signature, the name of the forger in whose favour the bill was drawn; that other signature was--Bertie Cecil.
"Cecil, my dear fellow," said the Seraph, "I'm ashamed to send for you on such a blackguard errand! Here, M. Baroni, make your statement. Later on, Mr. Cecil can avenge it."
"My statement is easily made," said the Jew. "I simply charge the Hon. Bertie Cecil with having negotiated a bill with my firm for £750 month, drawn in his own favour, and accepted at two months' date by your lordship. Your signature you, my lord marquis, admit to be a forgery. With that forgery I charge your friend!"
Cecil stood silent, with a strange anguish on his face.
"I am not guilty," he said quietly.
"Beauty--Beauty! Never say that to me!" said the Seraph. "Do you think I can ever doubt you?"
"It is a matter of course," replied Baroni, "that Mr. Cecil denies the accusation. It is very wise. But I must arrest Mr. Cecil! Were you alone, my lord, you could prosecute or not, as you please; but ours is the money obtained by that forgery. If Mr. Cecil will accompany me unresistingly, I will not summon legal force."