?"

"I never knew quite why he left the bank. I always understood there
was some unpleasantness."

"If ye didn't know, it was because ye didn't want to know. Ye never do
want to know these things. 'Unpleasantness!' There's only one sort of
unpleasantness with the clerks in a bank!... _I_ know, anyhow,
because I took the trouble to find out for myself, when I had that
bother with him in my own office. And a nice affair that was, too!"

"But you told me at the time that his books were all right with you.
Only you preferred not to keep him." Mrs. Maiden's voice was now
plaintive.

Thomas Batchgrew came close to the bed and leaned on the foot of it.

"There's some things as you won't hear, Elizabeth. His books were all
right, but he'd made 'em all right. I got hold of him afore he'd done
more than he could undo--that's all. There's one trifle as I might
ha' told ye if ye hadn't such a way of shutting folks up sometimes,
missis. I'll tell ye now. Louis Fores went down on his knees to me in
my office. On his knees, and all blubbing. What about that?"

Mrs. Maldon replied--

"You must have been glad ever since that you did give the poor boy
another chance."

"There's nothing I've regretted more," said Thomas Batchgrew, with a
grimness that became him. "I heard last week he's keeping books and
handling cash for Horrocleave nowadays. I know how that'll end! I'd
warn Horrocleave, but it's no business o' mine, especially as ye made
me help ye to put him into Horrocleave's.... There's half a dozen
people in this town and in Hanbridge that can add up Louis Fores, and
have added him up! And now he's robbed ye in yer own house. But it
makes no matter. He's safe enough!" He sardonically snorted. "He's
safe enough. We canna' even stop the notes without telling the police,
and ye won't have the police told. Oh, no! He's managed to get on th'
right side o' you. However, he'll only finish in one way, that chap
will, whether you and me's here to see it or not."

Mr. Batchgrew had grown really impressive, and he knew it.

"Don't let us be hard," pleaded Mrs. Maldon. And then, in a firmer,
prouder voice: "There will be no scandal in my family, Mr. Batchgrew,
as long as I live."

Mr. Batchgrew's answer was superb in its unconscious ferocity--

"That depends how long ye live."

His meaningless eyes rested on her with frosty impartiality, as he
reflected--

"I wonder how long she'll last."

He felt strong; he felt immortal. E