"Mary, what wild things are you saying?"

"Ah, it's hard to believe; but it's true. He'll have to disgorge, or Mr.

Jevons will take the business into court. He gave me the seven thousand dollars I wanted on the spot, and promised to get the rest for me, and give me as much more as I wanted. I've seen Ormsby, and paid him the money; but he's obdurate. The jealous wretch is bent upon ruining d.i.c.k.

Nothing will move him."

"It is our sin crying for atonement, Mary. Money cannot buy absolution."

"No, but father can say the word that will save us all. He must swear he made a mistake--that he did sign those checks for the amounts drawn from the bank. That will paralyze Ormsby, and leave him powerless."

"Lies! lies!--we are wallowing in lies!" groaned the rector.

"When a lie can hurt no one, and can avert a terrible calamity, perjury can be no sin. G.o.d knows I have been punished enough." Then, with a sudden anger and a burst of violence so unusual in his wife that it horrified the rector, she began to abuse her father, calling him every terrible, foolish name that came to her tongue.

"He shall pay the penalty of his fraud," she cried. "Thief he calls me--well, it's bred in the bone. Set a thief to catch a thief. I've run him to earth. He'll have to lose hundreds of thousands, and more. It will send him wild with terror. Think what that'll mean! Think how he'll cringe and whine and implore! It'll be like plucking out his heart. I have the whip-hand of him now, and he shall dance to my tune. I shouldn't be surprised if compulsory honesty and the restoration of ill-gotten wealth were to kill him."

"Mary, Mary, be calm!"

"I'm going to him now," she cried. "We'll see who will be worsted in the fight. I'll silence his taunts. There'll be no more chuckling over his daughter's misery--no more insults and abuse of you, John."

"My dear Mary, you mustn't think of going now. You're unsprung, overcome.

You'll do something rash. Let us be satisfied for the present with this great change of fortune. One ghost at least is laid--the terror of poverty. The way lies open now for our honorable confession. You see that, don't you?" he pleaded. "We can delay no longer. There is no excuse. By the return of our boy, the ground was cut from beneath our feet. What does it matter what the world says of us, when we have made things right with our G.o.d, when we have done justice by our brave son?"

"Oh, no--think of Netty."

"Ah, Netty is in trouble, dearest. She's had bad news to-day. Harry Bent talks of canceling his engagement. The scandal has reached the ears of his family, and his money-affairs are dependent on his mother, whom he can't offend. You see, darling, the sins of the fathers have begun to descend on the children--d.i.c.k and Netty both stricken. We must confess!--confess!"

"I can't, John, I can't--I can't. d.i.c.k won't hear of it."

"d.i.c.k has no voice in the matter at all. It is the voice of G.o.d that calls."

"Yes, yes, I know, John, but--wait till I've seen father once more. I won't listen to you, I won't eat, I won't sleep, until I've seen him.

I'll go to him at once."

"I must come, too," urged the rector weakly. Yet, the thought of facing the miser's taunts at such a time filled him with unspeakable dread. And he could not tell her that d.i.c.k's arrest was imminent.

"Have some food, dearest, and go afterward."

"I couldn't eat. It would choke me," Mrs. Swinton said, rebelliously.

Netty, hearing her mother's voice, came into the room, her eyes red with weeping.

"You've heard, mother?" she cried, plaintively.

"I've heard, Netty. To-morrow Mrs. Bent will be sorry. We're no longer paupers, Netty."

"Why, grandfather isn't dead?"

"No, but we are rich. He's a thief. We've always been rich. Your grandfather has robbed us of hundreds of thousands--all my mother's fortune. I've only just found it out to-day from a lawyer."

"Oh, the villain!" cried Netty. "But I shall be jilted all the same. d.i.c.k has ruined and disgraced us all. I'm snubbed--jilted--thrown over, because my brother is a felon."

"Silence, Netty. There are other people in the world beside yourself to think of," cried the rector.

"Well, n.o.body ever thinks of me," sobbed the girl, angrily.

There was a loud rattling at the front door. The rector started, and listened in terror.

"Too late!" he groaned, dropping into a chair. "It's the police!"

"John, you have betrayed me--after all!" screamed his wife, looking wildly around like a hunted thing.

He bowed his head in a.s.sent. He misunderstood her meaning. "Ormsby has been here. He found out--by a slip of the tongue."

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE WILL

The police had arrived with a warrant to search the house. Mrs. Swinton seemed turned to stone. The rector drooped his head in resignation, and stood with hands clenched at his side, looking appealingly at his wife.

He said nothing, but his eyes beseeched her to be brave, to say the words that would save her son, to surrender in the name of truth and justice.

She understood, but refused; and the police proceeded with their search.

Now that further concealment was useless, they were led upstairs. d.i.c.k, lying in his deck-chair, heard them coming, and guessed what had happened. He dropped his book upon his lap, and, when the police inspector and the detective entered the room, he was quite prepared.

"Well, so you've found me," he cried, with a laugh. "It's no good your thinking of taking me, unless you've brought a stretcher, for I can't walk."

"We sha'n't take you without doctor's orders, if you're ill, sir."

"Well, he won't give you the order, so you'd better leave your warrant, and run away and play."

"I have to warn you, sir," said the officer pompously, "that anything you say will be taken down in evidence against you."

"Well, take that down in evidence--what I've just said. You're a smart lot to look everywhere except in the most likely place. Take that down as well."

"We don't want any impudence. You're our prisoner; we shall put an officer in the house."

"Well, all I ask is that you won't make things more unpleasant for my mother and father than is absolutely necessary. Now, get out. I'm reading an interesting book. If you should see Mr. Ormsby, you can give him my kind regards, and tell him he's a bigger cad than I thought, and, when I'm free, I'll repeat the dose I gave him at our club dinner. Say I'm sorry I didn't rob his bank of seventy thousand instead of seven thousand."

"Do I understand, sir," said the officer, taking out his notebook, "that you confess to defrauding the bank of seven thousand dollars?"

"Oh, certainly! I'll confess to anything you like, only get out."

Netty had taken refuge in the drawing-room, where she locked herself in, inspired with an unreasoning terror, and a dread of seeing her brother handcuffed and carried out of the house. The rector and his wife stood face to face in the study, with the table between them.

"For the last time, Mary, I implore you to speak." He raised his hand, and his eyes blazed with a light new and strange to her.