"It will kill our poor child!" answered Mr. Dinneford in a broken
voice.

"Death is better than the degradation of living with a criminal,"
replied his wife. "I say it solemnly, and I mean it; the die is
cast! Come what will, George Granger stands now and for ever on the
outside! Go at once and give information to the bank officers. If
you do not, I will."

With a heavy heart Mr. Dinneford returned to the bank and informed
the president that the note in question was a forgery. He had been
gone from home a little over half an hour, when Granger, who had
come to ask him about the three notes given him that morning by
Freeling, put his key in the door, and found, a little to his
surprise, that the latch was down. He rang the bell, and in a few
moments the servant appeared. Granger was about passing in, when the
man said, respectfully but firmly, as he held the door partly
closed,

"My orders are not to let you come in."

"Who gave you those orders?" demanded Granger, turning white.

"Mrs. Dinneford."

"I wish to see Mr. Dinneford, and I must see him immediately."

"Mr. Dinneford is not at home," answered the servant.