r miserly, ambitious father intended condemning Gerty.

"My baby, bless her sweet face," he added, "shall never marry that
bleach-eyed old Digby."

Then he shut his ledger with a bang, and went for a walk in the park,
where he could think. But the Mackenzies would lose the fine old house
and property called Grantley Hall. Keane would assuredly foreclose. Then
the place would be Keane's or Gerty's, it was much the same. Keane
really meant it to be Sir Digby's and Gerty's, while he, Keane, should
live and be honoured and respected there--his son-in-law a lord.
Richards thought he must try by hook or by crook to prevent his partner
from foreclosing, if only for the following reason: if Grantley Hall
once passed into Keane's hands, much though Gerty and Jack loved each
other, the latter, being a Mackenzie and a Scot, would be far too proud
to propose marriage, seeing that in doing so his desires might be
misconstrued, and people would naturally say he was simply marrying back
his own property.

The general had told his children that Keane was his only creditor. Yes,
because in order to make sure of the estate, the old lawyer had bought
up all the others. He could thus come down upon the brave but reckless
Scottish soldier, like an avalanche from a mountain's brow.

The day had almost arrived for Keane's foreclosing. The family had
already left Grantley Hall, taking little with them save the family
jewellery, pictures, and nick-nacks. Flora had gone to Torquay, Jack was
in town, and his father preparing to resume his sword, and once more
fight for his country. The eventful morning itself came round. Keane was
early at his office. He was in an unusually happy frame of mind. Yet
perhaps he had a few slight "stoun's" of conscience, for over and over
again he talked to Richards, bringing up the subject next his heart, and
excusing himself.

"I had to do it--I had to do it," he said. "Pity for the poor
Mackenzies. But the general was so improvident, and what could I do?"

"Most improvident," replied Richards, smiling quietly over his ledger
nevertheless.

As the day wore away, Keane fidgeted more and more, and often looked at
the clock. "Another hour," he said, half aloud, "only another hour."

Richards looked at the clock too, and he often glanced uneasily towards
the door.

What was going to happen?

"Only half-an-hour." This from Keane.

"You seem pleased," said Richards dryly.

Rat, tat--bang, bang, at the offi