Adrien Leroy on a charge of forgery."

An exclamation of horror burst from all, except Adrien and Jasper; but
the speaker continued:

"In performance of my duty, I arrest him, in the King's name." He
touched Adrien lightly on the arm as he spoke.

Lord Barminster drew a long breath, but still hoping against his better
judgment that the affair was what its originators considered, a
practical joke, he restrained all appearance of anger.

"Come," he said, "this may be an excellent jest; but whoever is
responsible for it must surely realise that it has gone far enough."

"This is no jest, sir," said Adrien, and he looked at Mortimer Shelton,
who sat, white and bewildered, opposite to him.

"I am arrested on a charge of forging Shelton's signature to a bill for
ten thousand pounds."

"Good Heavens!" exclaimed his friend, starting up in horror. "But it is
impossible that they should think you--"

"Shelton," continued Adrien steadily, "has written a letter saying that
the signature is a forgery."

"I wrote last week, not knowing; but, of course"--he laughed
scornfully--"it is all a mistake, which can soon be rectified. The idea
of coming to you for such a thing! I hope you don't believe, my dear
Adrien, that I had any hand in this monstrous accusation?"

"Of course, I know that," replied his friend, holding out his hand. "But
the writing has a distinct resemblance to mine, I admit; and two
witnesses are ready to prove, so the inspector tells me, that they saw
me enter the office of a certain 'Harker's,' I think it is, where the
bill was signed, and also that my motor was standing at the door. While
a third witness, a clerk at the office, has filed an affidavit that he
actually saw me writing on the bill, there. All this, father"--turning
once more to the old man--"passes a jest."

"Yes, indeed," replied Lord Barminster sarcastically; "for a Leroy, who
can command a hundred thousand pounds by a stroke of his pen, to forge a
bill for ten thousand pounds is not a jest, but simple madness. The
charge is some insolent conspiracy."

Almost unconsciously, he fixed his glance on Jasper Vermont, who, during
the whole time, had sat motionless and silent. It seemed as if he
guessed, intuitively, that that smooth individual was at the bottom of
it all. Then he turned his grey eyes to Adrien's calm face, and from his
to the white one of Lady Constance, whose eyes were flashing with anger
at the mere idea of any one doubting