As he trudged homewards, thoughtful and perplexed, he was surprised to hear a shout behind him, and to see Harold running down the road after him.

“Why, dad,” he cried, “I have just come from town, and the first thing I saw was your back as you marched away.  But you are such a quick walker that I had to run to catch you.”

The Admiral’s smile of pleasure had broken his stern face into a thousand wrinkles.  “You are early to-day,” said he.

“Yes, I wanted to consult you.”

“Nothing wrong?”

“Oh no, only an inconvenience.”

“What is it, then?”

“How much have we in our private account?”

“Pretty fair.  Some eight hundred, I think.”

“Oh, half that will be ample.  It was rather thoughtless of Pearson.”

“What then?”

“Well, you see, dad, when he went away upon this little holiday to Havre he left me to pay accounts and so on.  He told me that there was enough at the bank for all claims.  I had occasion on Tuesday to pay away two cheques, one for L80, and the other for L120, and here they are returned with a bank notice that we have already overdrawn to the extent of some hundreds.”

The Admiral looked very grave.  “What’s the meaning of that, then?” he asked.

“Oh, it can easily be set right.  You see Pearson invests all the spare capital and keeps as small a margin as possible at the bank.  Still it was too bad for him to allow me even to run a risk of having a cheque returned.  I have written to him and demanded his authority to sell out some stock, and I have written an explanation to these people.  In the meantime, however, I have had to issue several cheques; so I had better transfer part of our private account to meet them.”

“Quite so, my boy.  All that’s mine is yours.  But who do you think this Pearson is?  He is Mrs. Westmacott’s brother.”

“Really.  What a singular thing!  Well, I can see a likeness now that you mention it.  They have both the same hard type of face.”

“She has been warning me against him—­says he is the rankest pirate in London.  I hope that it is all right, boy, and that we may not find ourselves in broken water.”

Harold had turned a little pale as he heard Mrs. Westmacott’s opinion of his senior partner.  It gave shape and substance to certain vague fears and suspicions of his own which had been pushed back as often as they obtruded themselves as being too monstrous and fantastic for belief.

“He is a well-known man in the City, dad,” said he.

“Of course he is—­of course he is.  That is what I told her.  They would have found him out there if anything had been amiss with him.  Bless you, there’s nothing so bitter as a family quarrel.  Still it is just as well that you have written about this affair, for we may as well have all fair and aboveboard.”

But Harold’s letter to his partner was crossed by a letter from his partner to Harold.  It lay awaiting him upon the breakfast table next morning, and it sent the heart into his mouth as he read it, and caused him to spring up from his chair with a white face and staring eyes.