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Updated: June 25, 2025
His was one of those strange natures which work in grooves and cannot get out of them. Nothing but the death of Herresford would persuade him to break the continuity of his service. His master might storm, and threaten, and dismiss him. It always came to nothing. Mr.
Herresford lay with his eyes closed and his lips tightly pressed together. He hated these encounters with his daughter, for she generally succeeded in getting something out of him; but he was determined she should have nothing this morning. He took refuge in silence, his only effectual weapon so far as Mrs. Swinton was concerned.
Seven hundred and fifty for Dick, and a thousand for the broker seventeen hundred and fifty dollars more to be raised at once; and the two thousand just received from Herresford all gone. Netty entered the room at the moment. "Ah, here you are, father!" she cried, going over to the hearthrug and dropping down before the fire. "Why didn't you come in to breakfast? Didn't you hear the gong?
Don't come to see us any more. My decision is unalterable. It will only cause us both pain. I am very, very sorry." Then, after a thoughtful pause, she added, "I am going somewhere, right away, for a long time." Again, she paused thoughtfully, and Herresford made signs to her which she could not see, signifying that he wished to see the letter. "Let me read," he cried.
The words went around among the servants at Asherton Hall in a whisper; and everybody was immediately alert, as at the return of a master. Mr. Trimmer was old Herresford's valet, who had been away for a long holiday the first for many years. Trimmer was a power for good and evil some said a greater power than Herresford himself, over whom he had gained a mental ascendency. Mr.
Swinton, without waiting to greet Dora. The girl gave her one look, a frozen glance of contempt, and turned her appealing eyes to Mr. Trimmer. "Mr. Herresford," the valet announced, "wishes to see Miss Dundas. The doctor is with him. No one else must come up." "But I insist," Mrs. Swinton cried. "And I, too, insist," cried Trimmer, with glittering eyes and a voice thrilling from excitement.
There is one other matter I must discuss with you in full. It is, briefly, this: Mr. Herresford has withdrawn his account from our bank, of which I am a director and a partner, and demands the restitution of seven thousand dollars taken by poor Dick Swinton. My co-directors blame me for not acting at once when I suspected the first check.
Herresford has changed his bedroom." "Humph! We'll soon alter that," murmured Trimmer. "That's what I told him, Mr. Trimmer. I said you'd be annoyed, and that he'd have to go back when you returned." "Just so, just so! Any trouble with his family?" "Mr. Dick I daresay you have heard." "I've heard nothing." "Dead killed in the war." "Dead! Well, to be sure." "Yes, poor boy killed."
A few days afterward, the added figures and words dried black as jet, whereas the ink used by Herresford dried a permanent blue." "Mr. Ormsby showed you the checks?" "Yes. Dora Dora don't look like that! I understand, my girl. I know you were fond of the boy, and I disapproved of it from the beginning. I said nothing, in case he didn't come home from the front.
She spoke in a dull voice a monotone as though repeating a lesson learnt by heart. Ormsby was rather staggered. How Mrs. Swinton could raise seven thousand dollars without getting it from Herresford was a mystery, and he had never expected the miser to disgorge. "May I ask you why you bring this money?" he demanded, at last. "I have explained." "I hope you don't think, Mrs.
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