'Colonel Clay again!' he cried, turning to me with a despondent air. 'He must have dressed the part. I shall die in the workhouse, Sey! That man has stolen away even my nest-egg from me.'
I saw it at a glance. 'Mrs. Quackenboss!' I put in. 'Those portraits on the Etruria! It was to help him in his make-up! You recollect, she sketched your face and figure at all possible angles.'
'And last quarter's?' Charles inquired, staggering.
The clerk turned up the entry. 'Drawn on the 10th of July,' he answered, carelessly, as if it mattered nothing.
Then I knew why the Colonel had run across to England.
Charles positively reeled. 'Take me home, Sey,' he cried. 'I am ruined, ruined! He will leave me with not half a million in the world. My poor, poor boys will beg their bread, unheeded, through the streets of London!'
(As Amelia has landed estate settled upon her worth a hundred and fifty thousand pounds, this last contingency affected me less to tears than Charles seemed to think necessary.)
We made all needful inquiries, and put the police upon the quest at once, as always. But no redress was forthcoming. The money, once paid, could not be recovered. It is a playful little privilege of Consols that the Government declines under any circumstances to pay twice over. Charles drove back to Mayfair a crushed and broken man. I think
