s your own opinion also, is it not, Mr.
Pawson?--your legal summing up, I mean."

The young attorney stretched out his spare colorless hands; opened wide
his long, double-jointed fingers; pressed their ten little cushions
together, and see-sawing the bunch in front of his concave waistcoat,
answered in his best professional voice:

"As to being bankrupt of funds I should say there was no doubt of that
being their condition; as to any criminal intent or practices--that, of
course, gentlemen"--and he shrugged his shoulders in a non-committal,
non-actionable way--"is not for me to decide."

"But you think it will be months, and perhaps years, before the
depositors get a penny of their money--do you not?" persisted St.
George.

Again Pawson performed the sleight-of-hand trick, and again he
was non-committal--a second shrug alone expressing his views, the
performance ending by his pushing a wooden chair in the direction of
Harry, who was still on his feet.

Harry settled himself on its edge and fixed his eyes on his uncle. St.
George again became absorbed in the several papers, Pawson once more
assisting him, the visitor having now been duly provided for.

This raking of ashes in the hope of finding something of value
unscorched was not a pleasant task for the young lawyer. He had, years
before, conceived the greatest admiration for his landlord and was never
tired of telling his associates of how kind and considerate St. George
had always been, and of his patience in the earlier days of his lease,
Mr. Temple often refusing the rent until he was quite ready to pay
it. He took a certain pride, too, in living under the same roof, so
to speak, with one universally known as a gentleman of the old school,
whose birth, education, and habits made him the standard among his
fellows--a man without pretence or sham, living a simple and wholesome
life; with dogs, guns, priceless Madeira and Port, as well as unlimited
clothes of various patterns adapted to every conceivable service and
function--to say nothing of his being part of the best society that
Kennedy Square could afford.

Even to bow to his distinguished landlord as he was descending his front
steps was in itself one of his greatest pleasures. That he might not
miss it, he would peer from behind his office shutters until the shapely
legs of his patron could be seen between the twisted iron railing. Then
appearing suddenly and with assumed surprise, he would lift his ha