The Nether Millstone by Fred M. White — Read

Sir George lay back on the bed with weary eyelids closed. His last effort had cost him more than he knew. Mary's will had conquered for the moment, and he felt disposed to obey. All the same the strange thread of logical reason was going on in his mind. The only thing that could save him and preserve the proud traditions of the Dashwoods must be something in the way of papers or documents of some kind. He lay there, allowing Mary to make him comfortable for the night. He lay there long after the girl had departed to her own room and the house was wrapped in close slumber. But the quietness was soothing to Sir George's brain. His mind was growing stronger and more logical; the dazed dream of the scene in the corridor began to shape itself into concrete facts.

What had Ralph Darnley been saying? Yes, it was all coming back now. Darnley had learned certain facts somewhere, bearing on the fortunes of the house of Dashwood. Surely there was nothing so wildly improbable in this, seeing that Ralph Darnley had passed the best part of his life in America. The late Ralph Dashwood, the original heir to the property, had lived in America, too. Of course, America was a large continent, but that was no reason why Ralph Dashwood and Darnley's father should not have been friends. Had not Ralph Darnley admitted that he had business in the neighbourhood of Dashwood Hall? Perhaps he had come to make money out of his information. But then the young fellow was a gentleman, and would not stoop to that kind of thing.