'It is perfectly true, Sir Samuel. I have seen him. He was dressed like a Prince—velvet jacket and crimson tie and white waistcoat. And he walked in with just his old insolence—nose up, head back, looking round as if we were not fit to be in the same room with him—just as he used to do.'
'By Jove!' said Sir Samuel, thrusting his hands into his pockets. 'What will Hilda say—I mean—Lady Dering, say, when she hears it?'
'There is more to hear, Sir Samuel—not much more. But it drives the nail home—a nail in their coffin, I hope and trust.'
'Go on. Let me hear all.'
'You've caught on, have you, to all I said about Edmund Gray of 22 South Square—him as was mentioned eight years ago—and about the handwriting being the same now as then?'
'Yes.'
'So that the same hand which forged the cheque then has forged the letters now?'
'Quite so.'
'I said then—and I say now—that young Arundel forged that cheque. I say now that he is the forger of these letters, and that Austin stood in with him and was his confidant. What do you think of this? To-night, after office, I thought I would go and have a look at 22 South Square. So I walked up and down on the other side: my eyes are pretty good still: I thought I should perhaps see something presently over the way. So I did. Who should come into the Square, marching along as if the old place, Benchers and all, belonged to him, but Mr. Athelstan Arundel! He pulled up at No. 22—No. 22, mind—Edmund Gray's number—he walked up-stairs—I heard him—to the second floor—Edmund Gray's floor.'
'Good Lord!' cried Sir Samuel. 'This is suspicious with a vengeance.'