Wilmot, had ever set eyes upon him.

He had sailed for Calcutta five-and-thirty years before, and had ever
since been employed in the offices of the Indian branch of the bank;
first as clerk, afterwards as chief and manager. He had been sent to
India because of a great error which he had committed in his early
youth.

He had been guilty of forgery. He, or rather an accomplice employed by
him, had forged the acceptance of a young nobleman, a brother officer of
Henry Dunbar's, and had circulated forged bills of accommodation to the
amount of three thousand pounds.

These bills were taken up and duly honoured by the heads of the firm.
Percival Dunbar gladly paid three thousand pounds as the price of his
son's honour. That which would have been called a crime in a poorer man
was only considered an error in the dashing young cornet of dragoons,
who had lost money upon the turf, and was fain to forge his friend's
signature rather than become a defaulter.

His accomplice, the man who had actually manufactured the fictitious
signatures, was the younger brother of Sampson Wilmot, who had been a
few months prior to that time engaged as messenger in the
banking-house--a young fellow of nineteen, little better than a lad; a
reckless boy, easily influenced by the dashing soldier who had need of
his services.

The bill-broker who discounted the bills speedily discovered their
fraudulent nature; but he knew that the money was safe.