as rejecting that rumour of
suicide. He dared not entertain this thought, so against his interest,
against the interest of his son, of every Forsyte. He strove against it;
and as his nature ever unconsciously rejected that which it could
not with safety accept, so gradually he overcame this fear. It was an
accident! It must have been!

Old Jolyon broke in on his reverie.

"Death was instantaneous. He lay all day yesterday at the hospital.
There was nothing to tell them who he was. I am going there now; you and
your son had better come too."

No one opposing this command he led the way from the room.

The day was still and clear and bright, and driving over to Park Lane
from Stanhope Gate, old Jolyon had had the carriage open. Sitting
back on the padded cushions, finishing his cigar, he had noticed with
pleasure the keen crispness of the air, the bustle of the cabs and
people; the strange, almost Parisian, alacrity that the first fine day
will bring into London streets after a spell of fog or rain. And he had
felt so happy; he had not felt like it for months. His confession to
June was off his mind; he had the prospect of his son's, above all, of
his grandchildren's company in the future--(he had appointed to meet
young Jolyon at the Hotch Potch that very manning to--discuss it again);
and there was the pleasurable excitement of a coming encounter, a coming
victory, over James and the 'man of property' in the matter of the
house.

He had the carriage closed now; he had no heart to look on gaiety; nor
was it right that Forsytes should be seen driving with an Inspector of
Police.

In that carriage the Inspector spoke again of the death:

"It was not so very thick--Just there. The driver says the gentleman
must have had time to see what he was about, he seemed to walk right
into it. It appears that he was very hard up, we found several pawn
tickets at his rooms, his account at the bank is overdrawn, and there's
this case in to-day's papers;" his cold blue eyes travelled from one to
another of the three Forsytes in the carriage.

Old Jolyon watching from his corner saw his brother's face change, and
the brooding, worried, look deepen on it. At the Inspector's words,
indeed, all James' doubts and fears revived. Hard-up--pawn-tickets--an
overdrawn account! These words that had all his life been a far-off
nightmare to him, seemed to make uncannily real that suspicion of
suicide which must on no account be entertained.