Mr. Rae's forebodings as to the outcome of the approaching interview were of the most gloomy nature as they drove through the finely appointed and beautifully kept grounds of Sir Archibald Brodie's estate. The interview began inauspiciously. Sir Archibald received them with stiff courtesy. He hated to be pursued to his country home with business matters. Besides, at this particular moment he was deeply engrossed in the inspection of his pigs, for which animals he cherished what might almost be called an absorbing affection. Mr. Rae, who was proceeding with diplomatic caution and skill to approach the matter in hand by way of Sir Archibald's Wiltshires, was somewhat brusquely interrupted by the Captain, who, in the firm conviction that he knew much better than did the lawyer how to deal with a man of his own class, plunged at once into the subject.
“Awfully sorry to introduce business matters, Sir Archibald, to the attention of a gentleman in the privacy of his own home, but there is a little matter in connection with the Bank in which I am somewhat deeply interested.”
Sir Archibald bowed in silence.
“Rather, I should say, it concerns my son, and therefore, Sir Archibald, myself and my family.”
Again Sir Archibald bowed.
“It is, after all, a trivial matter, which I have no doubt can be easily arranged between us. The truth is, Sir Archibald—,” here the Captain hesitated, as if experiencing some difficulty in stating the case.
“Perhaps Captain Cameron will allow me to place the matter before you, Sir Archibald,” suggested Mr. Rae, “as it has a legal aspect of some gravity, indeed of very considerable gravity. It is the case of young Mr. Cameron.”
“Ah,” said Sir Archibald shortly. “Forgery case, I believe.”
“Well,” said Mr. Rae, “we have not been able as yet to get at the bottom of it. I confess that the case has certainly very grave features connected with it, but it is by no means clear that—”
“There is no need for further statement, Mr. Rae,” said Sir Archibald. “I know all about it. It is a clear case of forgery. The facts have all been laid before me, and I have given my instructions.”
“And what may these be, may I inquire?” said the Captain somewhat haughtily.
“The usual instructions, Sir, where the Bank of Scotland is concerned, instructions to prosecute.” Sir Archibald's lips shut in a firm, thin line. As far as he was concerned the matter was closed.
“But, Sir,” exclaimed the Captain, “this young man is my son.”
“I deeply regret it,” replied Sir Archibald.
“Yes, Sir, he is my son, and the honour of my family is involved.”
Sir Archibald bowed.
“I am here prepared to offer the fullest reparation, to offer the most generous terms of settlement; in short, I am willing to do anything in reason to have this matter—this unfortunate matter—hushed up.”
“Hushed up!” exclaimed Sir Archibald. “Captain Cameron, it is impossible. I am grieved for you, but I have a duty to the Bank in this matter.”
“Do you mean to say, Sir,” cried the Captain, “that you refuse to consider any arrangement or compromise or settlement of any kind whatever? I am willing to pay the amount ten times over, rather than have my name dragged through legal proceedings.”
“It is quite impossible,” said Sir Archibald.
“Come, come, Sir Archibald,” said the Captain, exercising an unusual self-control; “let us look at this thing as two gentlemen should who respect each other, and who know what is due to our—ah—class.”
It was an unfortunate remark of the Captain's.
“Our class, Sir? I presume you mean the class of gentlemen. All that is due to our class or any other class is strict justice, and that you, Sir, or any other gentleman, shall receive to the very fullest in this matter. The honour of the Bank, which I regard as a great National Institution charged with National responsibilities, is involved, as is also my own personal honour. I sincerely trust your son may be cleared of every charge of crime, but this case must be prosecuted to the very fullest degree.”
“And do you mean to tell me, Sir Archibald,” exclaimed the Captain, now in a furious passion, “that for the sake of a few paltry pounds you will blast my name and my family name in this country?—a name, I venture to say, not unknown in the history of this nation. The Camerons, Sir, have fought and bled for King and country on many a battlefield. What matters the question of a few pounds in comparison with the honour of an ancient and honourable name? You cannot persist in this attitude, Sir Archibald!”
“Pounds, Sir!” cried Sir Archibald, now thoroughly aroused by the contemptuous reference to what to him was dearer than anything in life. “Pounds, Sir! It is no question of pounds, but a question of the honour of a National Institution, a question of the lives and happiness of hundreds of widows and orphans, a question of the honour of a name which I hold as dear as you hold yours.”
Mr. Rae was in despair. He laid a restraining hand upon the Captain, and with difficulty obtained permission to speak. “Sir Archibald, I crave your indulgence while I put this matter to you as to a business man. In the first place, there is no evidence that fraud has been committed by young Mr. Cameron, absolutely none.—Pardon me a moment, Sir Archibald.—The fraud has been committed, I grant, by someone, but by whom is as yet unknown. The young man for some weeks has been in a state of incapacity; a most blameworthy and indeed shameful condition, it is true, but in a state of incapacity to transact business. He declares that he has no knowledge of this act of forgery. He will swear this. I am prepared to defend him.”
“Very well, Sir,” interrupted Sir Archibald, “and I hope, I sincerely hope, successfully.”
“But while it may be difficult to establish innocence, it will be equally difficult to establish guilt. Meantime, the young man's life is blighted, his name dishonoured, his family plunged into unspeakable grief. I venture to say that it is a case in which the young man might be given, without injury to the Bank, or without breaking through its traditional policy, the benefit of the doubt.”
But Sir Archibald had been too deeply stirred by Captain Cameron's unfortunate remarks to calmly weigh Mr. Rae's presentation of the case. “It is quite useless, Mr. Rae,” he declared firmly. “The case is out of my hands, and must be proceeded with. I sincerely trust you may be able to establish the young man's innocence. I have nothing more to say.”
And from this position neither Mr. Rae's arguments nor the Captain's passionate pleadings could move him.
Throughout the return journey the Captain raged and swore. “A contemptible cad, Sir! a base-born, low-bred cad, Sir! What else could you expect from a fellow of his breeding? The insolence of these lower orders is becoming insupportable. The idea! the very idea! His bank against my family name, my family honour! Preposterous!”
“Honour is honour, Captain Cameron,” replied Mr. Rae firmly, “and it might have been better if you had remembered that the honour of a cottar's son is as dear to him as yours is to you.”
And such was Mr. Rae's manner that the Captain appeared to consider it wise to curb his rage, or at least suppress all reference to questions of honour in as far as they might be related to the question of birth and breeding.