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Updated: June 6, 2025
"There is a door leading from the yard into a court that connects St. Gundolph Lane with another lane at the back," he said, "is there not?" He pointed to the dark little yard outside the window as he spoke. "Yes, there is a door, I believe." "Is it locked?" "No; it is seldom locked till four o'clock; the clerks use it sometimes, when they go in and out." "Then I shall go out that way," said Mr.
At twelve o'clock the next day he ordered a brougham, and was driven to the banking-house in St. Gundolph Lane. This was the first time that Henry Dunbar had visited the house in St. Gundolph Lane since his return from India. Those who knew the history of the present chief partner of the house of Dunbar, Dunbar, and Balderby, were in nowise astonished by this fact.
He got up early the next morning, and before breakfasting he despatched a telegraphic message to the banking-house in St. Gundolph Lane. It was from Henry Maddison Dunbar to William Balderby, and it consisted of these words: "Pray come to me directly, at the George, Winchester. A very awful event has happened; and I am in great trouble and perplexity. Bring a lawyer with you.
Gundolph Lane, sir," returned Joseph; "I have a letter for you from Mr. Balderby. I came to meet you, and to be of service to you." Henry Dunbar looked at him doubtfully. "You are not one of the clerks in St. Gundolph Lane?" he said. "No, Mr. Dunbar." "I thought as much; you don't look like a clerk; but who are you, then?" "I will tell you presently, sir.
How dared this shabby-looking man, with clumsy boots that were queer about the heels, and a mangy fur collar, like the skin of an invalid French poodle, to his threadbare coat how in the name of all that is audacious, dared such a low person as this lay his dirty fingers upon the sacred shoulder of Henry Dunbar of Dunbar, Dunbar, and Balderby's banking-house, St. Gundolph Lane, City?
The corners of his mouth twitched nervously as he got out of the carriage before the mahogany doors of the banking-house in St. Gundolph Lane. But he drew a long breath, and held his head proudly erect as he pushed open the doors and went in. Never since the day of the discovery of the forged bills had that man entered the banking-house.
Dunbar's card-case had been found in the breast-pocket of his overcoat, and a great many people in the waiting-room knew that the gentleman with the white lace and grey moustache, lying so quietly upon one of the broad sofas, was no less a personage than Henry Dunbar, of Maudesley Abbey and St. Gundolph Lane.
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