"If it were anything--anything except disgrace!"

An hour later and the Seraph's servant brought him a message, asking him
to come to Lord Rockingham's rooms immediately.

Cecil went, and the Seraph crossed the room with his hand held out; not
for his life in that moment would he have omitted that gesture of
friendship. There was a third person in the room, a Jew, M. Baroni, who
held a folded paper, with the forged signature of _Rockingham_ on it,
and another signature, the name of the forger in whose favour the bill
was drawn; that other signature was--_Bertie Cecil_.

"Cecil, my dear fellow," said the Seraph, "I'm ashamed to send for you
on such a blackguard errand! Here, M. Baroni, make your statement. Later
on, Mr. Cecil can avenge it."

"My statement is easily made," said the Jew. "I simply charge the Hon.
Bertie Cecil with having negotiated a bill with my firm for L750 month,
drawn in his own favour, and accepted at two months' date by your
lordship. Your signature you, my lord marquis, admit to be a forgery.
With that forgery I charge your friend!"

Cecil stood silent, with a strange anguish on his face.

"I am not guilty," he said quietly.

"Beauty--Beauty! Never say that to _me_!" said the Seraph. "Do you think
_I_ can ever doubt you?"

"It is a matter of course," replied Baroni, "that Mr. Cecil denies the
accusation. It is very wise. But I _must_ arrest Mr. Cecil! Were you
alone, my lord, you could prosecute or not, as you please; but ours is
the money obtained by that forgery. If Mr. Cecil will accompany me
unresistingly, I will not summon legal force."

"Cecil, tell me what is to be done?" said the Seraph hoarsely. "I will
send for the duke--"

"Send for no one. I will go with this man. He is right as far as he
knows. The whole is a--a mystery--an error."

Cecil hesitated a moment; then he stretched out his hand. "Will you take
it--still?"

"Take it! Before all the world, always, come what will!"

The Seraph's voice rang clear as the ring of silver. Another moment, and
the door had closed. Cecil went slowly out beside his accuser, not
blaming the Jew in anything.

Once out in the air, the Hebrew laid his hand on his arm. Presently, in
a side-street, three figures loomed in the shadow of the houses--a
German official, the commissary of police, and an English detective. The
Hebrew had betrayed him, and arrested him in the open street.

In an instant all the pride and blood of his race was up