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Updated: July 18, 2025
Since money affairs had been straightened out, these chance visitors had lost their terror, and anyone was free to call upon the clergyman, with the certainty of a hearing, at morning, noon, or night, on any day in the week. Mr. Barnby was the visitor. He came forward to shake the rector's hand awkwardly. "What is it, Barnby?" cried the rector, with a laugh.
He might accuse the rector of complicity in her fraud. He would spread ruin around, rather than lose his dollars. In the morning, half-an-hour after the bank opened, Mr. Barnby appeared again at the rectory, impelled by a strict sense of duty once more to enter the house of sorrow, on what was surely the most unpleasant errand ever undertaken by a man at his employer's bidding.
Barnby, the manager of the bank, was with me in the moment of my sorrow, and, with great consideration for my feelings, made no further reference to the misdemeanor my son was supposed to have committed. Let me tell you at once that my boy was innocent of the forgery of which you have all heard innocent! Ah! you are surprised.
"Will you take a seat, Mr. ? I didn't quite catch your name." "Barnby, sir." "Take a seat, Mr. Barnby. You've come to see me about money?" "Yes, sir, an unpleasant matter, I fear." "Depression in the market, eh? Things still falling? Ah! It's the war, the war curse it! Tell me more tell me quickly!" "It's a family matter, sir." "Family matter! What has my family to do with my money ha!
On the best lines of communication the ruts were deep, the descents precipitous, and the way often such as it was hardly possible to distinguish, in the dusk, from the unenclosed heath and fen which lay on both sides. Ralph Thorseby, the antiquary, was in danger of losing his way on the great North road, between Barnby Moor and Tuxford, and actually lost his way between Doncaster and York.
"I am going to tell you something that will make you hate me for the rest of your life." The rector trembled with a growing dread. "First, tell me what Barnby said to you, and what you said to him, about those checks that you got from your father. You must have given Barnby an entirely erroneous impression." "It is about those checks I am going to speak.
One side of him was already at rest forever; but his right hand, with which he had written his last letter and signed the lying statement which was to absolve his grandson, was lovingly fingering a large bundle of bank-notes that Mr. Barnby, by request, had brought up from the bank.
On her arrival at the bank, she found the doors closed; but she rang the bell so insistently that, at last, a porter appeared. And she even persuaded that grim person to violate all rules, and take her card to Vivian Ormsby, who was conferring with Mr. Barnby. In the end, she triumphed, and was admitted to the banker's private room. Ormsby greeted Dick's mother with marked coldness.
"You do presume, sir." Poor Mr. Barnby was in a perspiration. The keen, little old man was besting and flurrying him; he was no match for this irascible invalid. "Then, sir, I take it, that you wish us to prosecute your grandson who is at the war." "Prosecute whom you like, sir, but don't come here pretending that you're not responsible for the acts of fraudulent swindlers."
I'll have my seven thousand, every penny." Mr. Barnby subsided. The situation was clear enough. Herresford repudiated the checks, and it was for Mr. Ormsby to decide what action should be taken, and against whom. Mr. Barnby's personal opinion of the forgery was that it might just as well have been done by Mrs. Swinton as by her son.
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