He would vouch for that of which he was doubtful and receive the price of sharp practice.

In other words he, Alan Vernon, who had never uttered a wilful untruth or taken a halfpenny that was not his own, would before the tribunal of his own mind, stand convicted as a liar and a thief.

The thing was not to be borne.

At whatever cost it must be ended.

If he were fated to be a beggar, at least he would be an honest beggar.
With a firm step and a high head he walked straight into Sir Robert's room, without even going through the formality of knocking, to find Mr.Champers-Haswell seated at the ebony desk by his partner's side examining some document through a reading-glass, which on his appearance, was folded over and presently thrust away into a drawer.
It seemed, Alan noticed, to be of an unusual shape and written in some strange character.
Mr.Haswell, a stout, jovial-looking, little man with a florid complexion and white hair, rose at once to greet him.
"How do you do, Alan," he said in a cheerful voice, for as a cousin by marriage he called him by his Christian name.