'Mr. Probus,' I said. 'I must tell you that my cousin is now bankrupt.'
He stared without any look of recognition.
'Mr. Probus,' I repeated, 'my cousin Matthew is a bankrupt. I tell you, in order that you may send in your claim with those of the other creditors.'
'Ay—ay—' he replied. 'Very like.'
'Bankrupt!' I said again. 'Even had you succeeded in your plot you would have been too late.'
He nodded without attention.
'And another mass of debts has been added. His wife's house has been wrecked by the mob and all her property destroyed. Therefore her liabilities have been presented to her husband.'
'All gone!' he moaned. 'All gone! The work of an honest lifetime wasted and thrown away. Nothing will ever be recovered.'
'Mr. Probus,' I said, 'the money is gone. That is most true. But more than that is gone. Your character—your honour—it is all gone—wasted and thrown away—none of it will be recovered.'
'All gone—all gone,' he repeated.