Aunt Caroline had a visitor. She received him almost secretly in the little room known as "the Upstairs Study," adjoining Jack's bedroom.

The visitor had been sent for, and came in fear and trembling. It was Mr. Crick. The old lady intended to get to the bottom of the mystery about Bannister. The slackness of everybody else in the matter only spurred her to greater effort. Beatrice Carew's offhand treatment she regarded as due to girlish ignorance and inexperience. But her brother had no right to give his son in marriage to the daughter of a man whose character was not spotless, and against whom the breath of scandal was raised in something more vigorous than whispers. Mr. Crick was her authority; either he had grossly deceived her, or he knew more than he had said.

The poor little man arrived in a somewhat excited state, for he had fortified his courage with something stronger than righteous indignation. He was terribly afraid of Bannister. He knew that his enemy would not scruple to damage him in the eyes of the Bishop; so he sneaked up to the house by a sidewalk through the park, and inquired nervously of the footman if Mr. Bannister was in the house. On being told that he had gone off on his motor for the afternoon, accompanied by his daughter, Mr. Crick found courage as he strode into Aunt Caroline's presence. Her first glance was one of keen scrutiny--to see if he were quite sober, She opened the interview with a blunt question.

"Mr. Crick, were you telling me the truth when you said that Mr. Bannister was really Dick Gordon, of Vienna, a scamp and an adventurer?"

Mr. Crick closed the door carefully and put down his hat and stick, and swelled out his chest like a man about to give a lecture. "You see, it was this way----"

"Mr. Crick, a direct answer to a direct question. Did you not assure me that Mr. Bannister, the father of the girl my nephew has chosen for a wife, was a scoundrel--nay a criminal, and his real name was Gordon?"

"Well you see, 'criminal' is rather a large word, isn't it? Won't you sit down, Miss Cardew? I'll explain if you'll give me time."

Mr. Crick mopped his moist brow and ran his handkerchief over his red, wrinkled, pimpled face.

"Yes, I'll sit down, and you can sit, too. Don't fidget, man, and don't prevaricate. You've made a grave statement, and--you have said other things--about me."

"Nonsense, Miss Cardew--never!"

"We will not discuss that at present. Let us keep to Mr. Bannister. You knew him in Vienna as Dick Gordon. When was that?"

"A great many years ago--oh, yes, a great many years--nearly twenty, I should think. You see, I was younger then."

"Naturally."

"And more foolish."

"Impossible, Mr. Crick, judging by your recent conduct and the dreadful state into which you had fallen before we lifted you out of the morass----"

"Yes, yes, of course--I am deeply grateful. I'm a different man. But as I was saying, it was in Vienna. I was a member of the English Club there, and a guest of a wealthy American, who had rented a large house. Everybody in the English colony knew everybody else, and we used to play cards, of course, and the stakes were rather high. The Americans were free with their money, and--and--well, I had more to spend then than I have now. There was a fellow there, devilish handsome chap and all that, whom the women made much of; and my friend Hyam, the millionaire, introduced him to the English Club and made him a member. He said he belonged to a good old Scotch family, and as there are a good many Gordons, it was impossible to deny the fact, wasn't it? He singled me out for his friendship."

"Why?" asked Aunt Caroline, with disconcerting directness.

"Well--er--I was playing cards a good deal, I suppose, and I was impressionable. He always had one or two Polish princesses running after him, and--one of them liked me--and turned out to be an out-and-out swindler. She ruined everybody she played with--except Dick Gordon, who always won--and they played into each other's hands. They rooked me of a thousand pounds in a fortnight."

"Who--the Polish princesses?"

"No, this Dick Gordon and his confederate. Hyam must have lost quite two thousand, and one night there was a row at the club. Some of the men agreed to watch him. Though they didn't actually catch him cheating--that is to say, enough to make it a criminal matter--they were all pretty sure; and in the middle of a game Hyam lost his temper, jumped up, and struck Gordon in the face. They were mostly young men, except Hyam, and they wanted to give the fellow a licking; but he crawled out of it somehow, and next day he was gone, Polish princess and all. He must have cleared three or four thousand pounds in about a week. It was too steep, it really was."

"You will pardon my asking the question, Mr. Crick, but did you--were you drinking at the time?"

"Well, we were all a little--er--on, don't you know, except Gordon. But the drink didn't hurt us after Gordon had gone."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well, I've got no proof, of course, but some of us thought our drinks were hocussed."

Miss Cardew elevated her eyebrow and looked puzzled.

"Thought the drink was doctored, you know, especially one night when we adjourned from the club to Gordon's swagger rooms at his hotel. He always cut a dash and stayed at the best place. That's where he first struck up the acquaintance with Hyam; and that's how I came to know him."

"And have you never met him since then?"

"I--no, not until a year ago, when I saw him--as Bannister--in London. He seemed to know everybody, and he had a grown-up daughter who visited quite the best houses. I supposed that he had married money."

"Who was the girl's mother, Mr. Crick? Did this Dick Gordon have no wife in those days?"

"Never that I heard of--unless the Polish princess--the dark one--was his wife."

"Good heavens! what terrible possibilities you suggest. My nephew engaged to the daughter of a swindling, Polish hussy; a girl with a scoundrel for a father!"

"Well, you know, you mustn't say that exactly--at least, not on my authority. I can't prove anything against the fellow, you know, except what other people say, don't you know. He won too much; but then, if they could have proved that he had cheated they would have horsewhipped him, or put him in jail, or run him through in a duel. But they couldn't catch him, you see."

"He was publicly insulted, you say. That's enough, Mr. Crick. I suspected the man the moment I set eyes on him. He has rascal written in his face. He's a hypocrite and a liar. Oh, my poor Jack!--my poor Jack! What have you done? What has my brother done? He has been hopelessly taken in. He always was a simpleton. He must revoke his consent. And we must see him together, Mr. Crick. You will tell him what you have told me, and we'll see what he will do."

"Oh, no, no, I'd rather not, if you don't mind," gasped Mr. Crick, mopping his moist forehead again, and shuffling painfully. "It's libel, you know. What I've told you was in strictest confidence, Miss Cardew. I'd no idea when you first mentioned his name that his daughter was engaged to your nephew. I don't really know anything about him. He may have married most respectably, and have come into money, and be able to explain his change of name, and all that--whereas I'm nobody, and a discredited person, though I owe every thing to you and the Bishop."

"Mr. Crick, you will show your gratitude by exposing this rascal. It is a quarter to four, and the carriage has gone down to the station to meet my brother. Ah, there it is, returning. We will go to him together, and implore him----"

"I'd rather not, if you don't mind. You see, it's beastly awkward for a fellow, after twenty years, to rake up a scandal against another chap who's got everybody on his side. I shouldn't wonder if he didn't say something beastly about me. We were a rackety lot in those days."

"Mr. Crick, if you have anything to hide, anything that you are ashamed of, confess it to me now, that I may know where we stand with this villain."

"Of course, you mustn't forget that Hyam was drunk when he struck Gordon; and Gordon could have got him expelled from the club if he had liked. But you see, he cleared off. That looked queer, didn't it?"

"Mr. Crick, we will put this matter to the Bishop. When he knows the truth, he will admit that you are his son's best friend."

Mr. Crick again protested, and perspired, and stammered, and choked, and grew quite incoherent in his nervous excitement. When the front door closed behind the Bishop, and his cheery voice was heard asking where Mr. and Miss Bannister were, she dragged the poor little man down into the hall to greet her brother, on the mat, as it were.

"Ah, Mr. Crick," cried the Bishop, "how go the preparations for the bazaar? You've been busy with my sister, I see. Nothing like it--work, work--organize, organize. An active life is the thing for you, Crick. You look a different man."

"John, Mr. Crick has an important communication to make to you," said Caroline, in sepulchral tones. "This way to the library, Mr. Crick. What you have to say must be said behind closed doors."

The Bishop looked annoyed. He had been listening to important communications all day, and had conducted a service and preached a sermon, and performed the opening ceremony at a new mission hall, since breakfast, and there was more to do before he could call his soul his own and dine in peace with his wife and his guests.

"Well, Mr. Crick, what is it?" he cried brusquely, as he slammed the door after him.

"I--I really have nothing to tell, Bishop. Miss Cardew insists that I should see you; but, as I have explained, it is quite unnecessary."

"Caroline, I am very busy to-day. Why do you worry me?"

"John, the future of your son hangs in the balance. Will you ruin him forever? Will you shut your eyes and ears to the truth? Do you know the kind of man you are harboring under your roof?"

"Caroline, I do believe you are still determined to annoy my son's future father-in-law. Your intentions may be good--your methods are abominable--abominable. Mr. Bannister and I understand one another. Jack is engaged. That is the end of it. Mr. Crick, say what you have to say, if it concerns my son, and be quick about it."

"I really--I'd rather not. It's a beastly caddish thing of a fellow, don't you know, to make charges against a man that he can't substantiate. I really know nothing definite about Mr. Bannister."

"That was not what you told me, Mr. Crick," cried Aunt Caroline, in shrill amazement. "Explain to my brother about the swindling in Vienna, and the Polish princesses, and the public humiliation of Dick Gordon, the swindler--now masquerading as Bannister--and his hasty flight."

"Well, really, you know, all those things, when put together, did look rather awkward, you know. But in a court of law----"

"But we're not in a court of law. John, Mr. Crick is still suffering from nerves, I fear, and has lost the courage of his opinions. He has satisfied me that this man, this Mr. Bannister, is nothing more than a common swindler, whose right name is Gordon. He was a swindler in Vienna, and narrowly escaped imprisonment."

"Are you sober--I mean, when did all this happen?" cried the Bishop irritably.

"Well, you see, it was twenty years ago--or nearly."

"Mr. Crick, it seems to me that you have been behaving most indiscreetly," observed the Bishop pompously. "You probably are confusing Mr. Bannister with some other person altogether; and, on your own showing, you have nothing serious to urge against him. Now I, on the other hand, know something about Mr. Bannister's past. I know that he has not been all--but there, why should I reveal his secrets to a perfect stranger? Mr. Bannister is a most highly esteemed person in London society. His friends are titled, wealthy, and intellectual people. I myself met him at Mr. Panoli's among men of light and leading lions of the intellectual world. He enchanted us all. Far be it from me to rake up the past, and throw the escapades of his youth in his teeth. Jack is of the same opinion; and for Miss Bannister's sake I think it is highly necessary that this malicious traducing of an honorable gentleman should stop. Should stop, Caroline, do you hear?"

"John, that man has hypnotized you."

"Caroline, prejudice has blinded you. Let me tell you that your behavior to Miss Bannister is cruel, and unworthy of a Christian lady; but, there, Mr. Crick, we will not bore you with family discussions that are more suited to the privacy of the domestic hearth. I wish you good afternoon, Mr. Crick. You will excuse me, I am sure. I have much to do. My sister will no doubt see that you have tea."

"Yes, tea. I should like a cup of tea," gasped Mr. Crick, making a swallowing motion with his parched throat. His shattered nervous system had undergone a severe strain; and the Bishop always terrified him.

Aunt Caroline was rendered helpless with impotent rage. Her brother had deliberately snubbed her before the miserable worm Crick, and she could endure no more. The whirling of Mr. Bannister's motor announced the return of the swindler from his second journey to Dingle Hall that day, and further discussion about his affairs was impossible. Aunt Caroline stalked out with as much dignity as she could command, and passed across the hall into the drawing room, ignoring the entry of Mr. Bannister and Mabel. Bannister gave Crick a withering, searching glance. He examined him through his eyeglass very much as he might have surveyed a half-drowned mongrel dog, or a cat without a tail.

The Bishop came out to greet his guest in the hall. "Well, Bannister--well, Mabel, what do you think of Dingle Hall?"

"It's all settled, Bishop," replied Bannister gaily. "I am charmed. The place is so good and so cheap, that I almost feel there must be some hideous drawback to it which I have not yet discovered. You, Mabel, what do you think of it?"

"Oh, I think it's a pretty place," replied Mabel coldly,

"She thinks I'm rash and extravagant, Bishop. She wonders what I shall do all alone, in such a big house. But I tell her that she must regard it as her home when I'm under ground. After all, it is only money invested, not spent. What is seven thousand pounds?"

"What, indeed!" murmured the Bishop, who really thought that seven thousand pounds was an immense sum of money. He had never been able to handle such an amount at one time in his life. He felt sure that Bannister must be much richer than he had admitted.

"My coachman tells me you drove the wife over, this morning--and, by the way, I haven't seen her yet. I suppose her head is better."

"I motored her over after breakfast, and she was delighted. In fact, I showed her the room which I intend to call the Bishop's Room, for it is always to be at your disposal and hers."

"Ah, a quaint idea, and very nice of you, Bannister. But it is rather near home. You shall reserve it for Caroline." The Bishop chuckled at his little joke, for he believed that she could hear him through the half-open drawing room door.

"Miss Cardew will ever be a welcome guest at my house, Bishop--my son-in-law's mother, as it were; he has told me what a wonderful lady she is, and how much he is indebted to her. Mabel, my dear, I've left my cigar case on the front seat of the motor. You might get it before Roche drives away." Then, as soon as she had departed, he approached the Bishop, and, laying a hand gently upon his arm, murmured, "Miss Cardew is not quite nice to me, Bishop; but I take no notice of it. She regards me as an interloper; and I can quite understand it. But it is worrying my daughter, I fear; so that if you notice she looks distressed, please ignore it. It will all come right presently."

"Jealousy, my dear Bannister, jealousy--a fond woman's jealousy. I apologize for my sister. I am shocked."

"Oh no, no, on no account take up that attitude, but make allowances for my daughter. And Lady Hester is troubled about it as well. I don't want to give the good lady pain. Her overwrought feelings are carrying her away. Only natural, only natural. She is losing her boy, as she expresses it, and it is a wrench. Let us all decide to take no notice."

"I quite agree with you, Bannister, quite agree with you. It is very generous and considerate of you. My sister's intentions are the best in the world, but at times she is a little jealous, that's all."

The Bishop looked at Mabel admiringly, as she entered with the cigar case. He was very fond of his future daughter-in-law. He loved her as he loved all pretty things, and was always correspondingly genial. "I'm afraid you are finding it dull while Jack is away, Mabel. We must do something to amuse you. I must speak to Hester about it. I'm afraid there isn't much here to interest a girl. What do girls like, now? Dresses, jewels? By the bye, have you seen the emeralds?"

Mabel's hands clenched, and she held herself in control with difficulty. She could not answer.

"Hester must show them to you. Hester, my dear," he exclaimed, as his wife descended the staircase, pale and calm, "I've just been telling Mabel that you must show her the emeralds."

"Oh, yes," murmured Hester huskily. "They are in the safe."

Mr. Bannister appeared to be utterly oblivious of the conversation. He had turned to the hall table where the afternoon post was spread out, and he was running over his letters.

"We must have the emeralds down, Hester. I wonder you have never shown them to Mabel before. Are you quite sure your head is better, my dear? You look very pale." The Bishop rose and took his wife's hand tenderly, and looked anxiously into her face. But her eyes were downcast, and her hand trembled.

"A little shaky," she murmured, "a little shaky."

"Mabel, you must look after Hester, and insist upon her showing you the emeralds. They're worth seeing. They're always stowed away in the safe, and nobody ever has a look at them. I had them put in a glass case, so that they could be displayed with greater ease. I am very proud of them. They've been in the family for generations, and I'm told they're very valuable--more valuable than ever."

"Father is a collector of precious stones," observed Mabel icily, giving her father a glance that startled him. He darted one sharp look at her, then laughed.

"Yes, but I keep mine at the bank."

"Indeed!" murmured the Bishop, who saw here further evidence of Bannister's wealth. "Mabel must be well stocked with trinkets then, and may perhaps take less interest in our emeralds--her emeralds some day--than most girls."

"I got a mania for collecting precious stones years ago," explained Bannister, addressing Hester, who was cold and calm. "I could never resist a fine diamond, and I once bought some immense emeralds, too. I believe they have doubled or trebled in value. I should like to compare them with yours, Lady Hester; it would be some guide. Yes, Mabel will have jewelry enough. My collection will be hers some day; but if she were to wear all the stones I have bought at various times, she would make a sensation."

"Lucky girl," murmured the Bishop.

"Many of the stones are not mounted; but now that Mabel is to be married I suppose I shall have to have some of them made up for her. Lady Hester must advise us. I have only to look around this house to see that her taste in design is excellent. By the bye, I quite forgot to say that many of them belonged to my family," continued Bannister airily, keeping an eye on the half-open door of the library, where Aunt Caroline was, and speaking in a loud voice. "My father was a Yorkshire squire of the old school with a long pedigree, of which he was very proud, and he never let the family jewels go away from the male line. Being the last of my race I have benefited by his wisdom, and Mabel will have the advantage of them."

The two women looked at one another, and in Mabel's eyes there was a piteous appeal for guidance. If the elder woman had given half a hint of encouragement she would have blazed out there and then, and denounced her father as a fraud, without any real evidence to substantiate the allegation.