thbert said, "beyond helping to show Brander was playing some
deep game of his own."

"I don't know, Mr. Hartington. However, I will think the matter over,
and we shall have opportunities for discussing it again on our way to
Brussels."

"I almost wish I had let the matter alone altogether," Cuthbert said to
himself as he drove back to his lodgings. "I wanted to clear up what
seemed a mystery, and I find myself plunged much deeper into a fog than
ever. Before I only dimly suspected Brander of having for some reason or
other permitted my father to take these shares when a word from him
would have dissuaded him from doing so. I now find that the whole
transaction was carried out in something like secrecy, and that so far
from my father's name being used to prop up the bank, it was almost
smuggled into the list of shareholders, and that even the directors were
kept in ignorance of the transfer of Cumming's shares to him. The whole
business has a very ugly look, though what the motive of this secrecy
was, or why Brander should be willing to allow, if not to assist, in my
father's ruin is more than I can conceive. The worst of the matter is,
he is Mary's father. Yes, I wish to goodness that I had left the whole
business alone."

Cuthbert had given his address to Cumming, and to his surprise the man
called on him that evening.

"You did not expect to see me again to-day, Mr. Hartington," he said,
when he entered, "but thinking the matter over a fresh light has struck
me, and I felt obliged to come round to tell you. I hope I am not
disturbing you."

"No, I have been so worried over the confounded business, that I have
given up going to some friends as I had promised, as I didn't feel that
I could talk about indifferent matters."

"Well, Mr. Hartington, my idea will surprise you; it will seem
incredible to you, and it almost seems so to myself, and yet it all
works in so that I can't help thinking it is near the mark. I believe
that your father never signed that transfer at all that his signature
was in fact a forgery."

"The deuce you do," Cuthbert exclaimed; "what on earth put such an idea
into your head? Why, man, the idea is absurd! If it was a forgery it
must have been done by Brander, and what possible motive could he have
had for such an act?"

"That I don't pretend to say. If I could see that, I should say it was a
certainty, but I own the absence of motive is the weak point of my idea.
In all other respects