he. "My cashier's name is Michael Penfold, but this is indorsed 'Robert
Penfold.' Do you hear, Arthur? Why, what is the matter with you? You look
like a ghost. I say there is your tutor's name at the back of this forged
note. That is very strange. Just look, and tell me who wrote these two
words 'Robert Penfold'?"

Young Wardlaw took the document and tried to examine it calmly, but it
shook visibly in his hand, and a cold moisture gathered on his brow. His
pale eyes roved to and fro in a very remarkable way; and he was so long
before he said anything that both the other persons present began to eye
him with wonder.

At last he faltered out, "This 'Robert Penfold' seems to me very like his
own handwriting. But then the rest of the writing is equally like yours,
sir. I am sure Robert Penfold never did anything wrong. Mr. Adams, please
oblige _me._ Let this go no further till I have seen him, and asked him
whether he indorsed it."

"Now don't you be in a hurry," said the elder Wardlaw. "The first
question is, who received the money?"

Mr. Adams replied that it was a respectable-looking man, a young
clergyman.

"Ah!" said Wardlaw, with a world of meaning.

"Father!" said young Wardlaw, imploringly, "for my sake, say no more
to-night. Robert Penfold is incapable of a dishonest act."

"It becomes your years to think so, young man. But I have lived long