evidently
interesting, as with his magnifying glass he once more examined every
stroke made by Mrs. Swinton's spluttering pen.

The color of the ink used by the forger was not the same as that in the
signature. It had darkened perceptibly and swiftly. An undoubted
forgery!

It was beyond imagination that Mrs. Swinton, the wife of the rector,
could stoop to a fraud. Surely, only a man would write heavily and
thickly like that. It was a clumsy alteration.

Dick Swinton had tampered with his grandfather's figures. Well, what
then? Would the old man thank his banker for making an accusation of
criminality against his grandson? Herresford might be a mean man, but the
honor of his name was doubtless dear to him.

What would come of a public trial? Obviously, Dick Swinton would be
disinherited and disgraced. The banker knew that it was his duty to
proceed at once, if he detected a fraud. But it was not the way of Mr.
Vivian Ormsby to act in haste--and it was near the hour for luncheon, to
which he had been invited by Colonel Dundas. To-morrow, he could, if
advisable, openly discover flaws in the check, and it would then be
better if action were taken by his manager, and not by himself.

Dora had been very sweet and kind to him--before Dick came along. Vivian
had gone so far as to consult his father about a proposal of marriage to
the rich colonel's daughter. They were cautious people, the Ormsbys, and
made calculations in their love-affairs as in their bank-books. The old
banker approved, and Vivian had hoped that Dora would accept him before
he went away. He knew that Dick Swinton stood in his path; but, if he
could drag his rival down, it was surely fair and honorable to do so
before Dora could commit herself to any sentimental relationship with a
criminal.

Ormsby took the chauffeur's seat in his waiting automobile, and drove as
fast as the traffic would permit, for he feared lest he might be late.
His pace in the upper part of Fifth avenue was far beyond anything the
law permitted. As he reached Eighty-eighth street, in which was Colonel
Dundas's house, he hardly slackened speed as he swung around the corner.
And there, just before him, a group of children playing stretched across
the street. Instantly, Ormsby applied the emergency brake. The huge
machine jarred abruptly to a standstill--so abruptly that both Ormsby and
his chauffeur in the seat beside him were hurled out. The chauffeur
scrambled to his feet after