“I will get them,” replied Mrs. Dinneford.
“When?”
“It will take time.”
“We cannot wait long. If the thing is done at all, it must be done quickly. ‘Strike while the iron is hot’ is the best of all maxims.”
“There shall be no needless delay on my part. You may trust me for that,” was answered.
Within a week Mrs. Dinneford brought two notes, drawn by her husband in favor of George Granger—one for five hundred and the other for one thousand dollars. The time was short—thirty and sixty days. On this occasion she came to the store and asked for her son-in-law. The meeting between her and Freeling was reserved and formal. She expressed regret for the trouble she was giving the firm in procuring a discount for her use, and said that if she could reciprocate the favor in any way she would be happy to do so.
“The notes are drawn to your order,” remarked Freeling as soon as the lady had retired. Granger endorsed them, and was about handing them to his partner, when the latter said:
“Put our name on them while you are about it.” And the young man wrote also the endorsement of the firm.
After this, Mr. Freeling put the bank business into Granger’s hands. Nearly all checks were drawn and all business paper endorsed by the younger partner, who became the financier of the concern, and had the management of all negotiations for money in and out of bank.
One morning, shortly after the first of Mr. Dinneford’s notes was paid, Granger saw his mother-in-law come into the store. Freeling was at the counter. They talked together for some time, and then Mrs. Dinneford went out.
On the next day Granger saw Mrs. Dinneford in the store again. After she had gone away, Freeling came back, and laying a note-of-hand on his partner’s desk, said, in a pleased, confidential way.
“Look at that, my friend.”
Granger read the face of the note with a start of surprise. It was drawn to his order, for three thousand dollars, and bore the signature of Howard Dinneford.
“A thing that is worth having is worth asking for,” said Freeling. “We obliged your mother-in-law, and now she has returned the favor. It didn’t come very easily, she said, and your father-in-law isn’t feeling rather comfortable about it; so she doesn’t care about your speaking of it at home.”
Granger was confounded.
“I can’t understand it,” he said.
“You can understand that we have the note, and that it has come in the nick of time,” returned Freeling.
“Yes, I can see all that.”
“Well, don’t look a gift-horse in the mouth, but spring into the saddle and take a ride. Your mother-in-law is a trump. If she will, she will, you may depend on’t.”
Freeling was unusually excited. Granger looked the note over and over in a way that seemed to annoy his partner, who said, presently, with a shade of ill-nature in his voice,
“What’s the matter? Isn’t the signature all right?”
“That’s right enough,” returned the young man, after looking at it closely. “But I can’t understand it.”
“You will when you see the proceeds passed to our accounted in bank—ha! ha!”
Granger looked up at his partner quickly, the laugh had so strange a sound, but saw nothing new in his face.
In about a month Freeling had in his possession another note, signed by Mr. Dinneford and drawn to the order of George Granger. This one was for five thousand dollars. He handed it to his partner soon after the latter had observed Mrs. Dinneford in the store.
A little over six weeks from this time Mrs. Dinneford was in the store again. After she had gone away, Freeling handed Granger three more notes drawn by Mr. Dinneford to his order, amounting in all to fifteen thousand dollars. They were at short dates.
Granger took these notes without any remark, and was about putting them in his desk, when Freeling said,
“I think you had better offer one in the People’s Bank and another in the Fourth National. They discount to-morrow.”
“Our line is full in both of these banks,” replied Granger.
“That may or may not be. Paper like this is not often thrown out. Call on the president of the Fourth National and the cashier of the People’s Bank. Say that we particularly want the money, and would like them to see that the notes go through. Star & Giltedge can easily place the other.”
Granger’s manner did not altogether please his partner. The notes lay before him on his desk, and he looked at them in a kind of dazed way.
“What’s the matter?” asked Freeling, rather sharply.
“Nothing,” was the quiet answer.
“You saw Mrs. Dinneford in the store just now. I told her last week that I should claim another favor at her hands. She tried to beg off, but I pushed the matter hard. It must end here, she says. Mr. Dinneford won’t go any farther.”
“I should think not,” replied Granger. “I wouldn’t if I were he. The wonder to me is that he has gone so far. What about the renewal of these notes?”
“Oh, that is all arranged,” returned Freeling, a little hurriedly. Granger looked at him for some moments. He was not satisfied.
“See that they go in bank,” said Freeling, in a positive way.
Granger took up his pen in an abstracted manner and endorsed the notes, after which he laid them in his bank-book. An important customer coming in at the moment, Freeling went forward to see him. After Granger was left alone, he took the notes from his bank-book and examined them with great care. Suspicion was aroused. He felt sure that something was wrong. A good many things in Freeling’s conduct of late had seemed strange. After thinking for a while, he determined to take the notes at once to Mr. Dinneford and ask him if all was right. As soon as his mind had reached this conclusion he hurried through the work he had on hand, and then putting his bank-book in his pocket, left the store.
On that very morning Mr. Dinneford received notice that he had a note for three thousand dollars falling due at one of the banks. He went immediately and asked to see the note. When it was shown to him, he was observed to become very pale, but he left the desk of the note-clerk without any remark, and returned home. He met his wife at the door, just coming in.
“What’s the matter?” she asked, seeing how pale he was. “Not sick, I hope?”
“Worse than sick,” he replied as they passed into the house together. “George has been forging my name.”
“Impossible!” exclaimed Mrs. Dinneford.
“I wish it were,” replied Mr. Dinneford, sadly; “but, alas! it is too true. I have just returned from the Fourth National Bank. They have a note for three thousand dollars, bearing my signature. It is drawn to the order of George Granger, and endorsed by him. The note is a forgery.”
Mrs. Dinneford became almost wild with excitement. Her fair face grew purple. Her eyes shone with a fierce light.
“Have you had him arrested?” she asked.
“Oh no, no, no!” Mr. Dinneford answered. “For poor Edith’s sake, if for nothing else, this dreadful business must be kept secret. I will take up the note when due, and the public need be none the wiser.”
“If,” said Mrs. Dinneford, “he has forged your name once, he has, in all probability, done it again and again. No, no; the thing can’t be hushed up, and it must not be. Is he less a thief and a robber because he is our son-in-law? My daughter the wife of a forger! Great heavens! has it come to this Mr. Dinneford?” she added, after a pause, and with intense bitterness and rejection in her voice. “The die is cast! Never again, if I can prevent it, shall that scoundrel cross our threshold. Let the law have its course. It is a crime to conceal crime.”
“It