“They were there, sir, at the same time as Mr. Dimsdale,” said Gilray, diffidently.

“Well, what then?” asked his employer.

“He says, sir, that the inspectors went down to the cabin and had some champagne with Captain Spender.  They then professed themselves to be very well satisfied with the state of the vessel and came away.”

“There you are!” the senior partner cried triumphantly.  “Of course these men can see at a glance how things stand, and if things had really been wrong they would have called attention to it.  Let us have no more of these false alarms.  You must say a few words on the point to Mr. Dimsdale, as coming from yourself, not from me.  Tell him to be more careful before he jumps to conclusions.”

“I will, sir.”

“And bring me ledger No. 33.”

Gilray stretched up his arm and took down a fat little ledger from a high shelf, which he laid respectfully before his employer.  Then, seeing that he was no longer wanted, he withdrew.

Ledger No. 33 was secured by a clasp and lock—­the latter a patent one which defied all tamperers.  John Girdlestone took a small key from his pocket and opened it with a quick snap.  A precious volume this, for it was the merchant’s private book, which alone contained a true record of the financial state of the firm, all others being made merely for show.  Without it he would have been unable to keep his son in the dark for so many months until bitter necessity at last compelled him to show his hand.

He turned the pages over slowly and sadly.  Here was a record of the sums sunk in the Lake Tanganyika Gold Company, which was to have paid 33 per cent., and which fell to pieces in the second month of its existence.  Here was the money advanced to Durer, Hallett, & Co., on the strength of securities which proved to be the flimsiest of insecurities when tested.  Further on was the account of the dealings of the firm with the Levant Petroleum Company, the treasurer of which had levanted with the greater part of the capital.  Here, too, was a memorandum of the sums sunk upon the Evening Star and the Providence, whose unfortunate collision had well-nigh proved the death blow of the firm.  It was melancholy reading, and perhaps the last page was the most melancholy of all.  On it the old man had drawn up in a condensed form an exact account of the present condition of the firm’s finances.  Here it is exactly word for word as he had written it down himself.

GIRDLESTONE & CO. 
October 1876
Debit.  Credit.