"I'm not thinking of myself at all, but of--of someone else. You're wronging me, Jeff. This is not the time to go back on me, now that I'm in trouble. You've got to help me out. You've got to keep Miller quiet.

If he talks I'm done for."

His cousin looked at him with contemptuous eyes. "Can't you see--haven't you fineness enough to see that Sam Miller would cut an arm off before he would expose his wife to more talk? Your precious secret's safe."

"It's all very well for you to talk that way," James complained. "I don't suppose you ever were put into temptation by a woman. You're not a lady's man. I'm the kind they take a shine to for some reason. Now this Anderson woman--"

Sharply Jeff cut in. "That's enough. When you speak of her it won't be in that tone of voice. You'll speak respectfully of her. She's the wife of my friend; and before she met you was innocent as a child."

"What do you know of her? I tell you, Jeff, there's a type of woman that's always smiling round the corner at you. I don't say I did right to yield to her. Of course I didn't. But, hang it, I'm not a block of wood. I've got red blood in my veins. The whip of youth drove me on.

You've probably never noticed it, but she was a devilish pretty girl."

He was swimming into his phrases so fluently that Jeff knew he would soon persuade himself that he had been the victim of her wiles. So, no doubt, in one sense, he had. She had laid her innocent bait to win his friendship, with never a thought of what was to come of it.

"It happened of course while you were rooming there," the editor shot at him.

James nodded sullenly.

His cousin knew now that more than once he had put away doubts of James.

When Sam Miller told him of her disappearance he had thought of the lawyer and had dismissed his suspicions as unworthy. He had always believed James to be a more moral man than himself, and he had turned his own back on the temptation lest it might prove too great for him. It would have been better for Nellie if he had stayed and fought it out to a finish.

James began further explanations. "Look at it the way it is. She put herself in my way."

Two steps carried Jeff to him. Without touching James he stood close to him, arms rigid and eyes blazing. "Don't say that again, you liar. You ruined her life. You let her suffer. She might have died for all of you.

She nursed your child and never whispered the name of its father. Sam Miller is charging himself with the keep of your daughter. Do you think she hasn't paid a hundred times for her mistake? Now, by G.o.d, keep your mouth shut! Be decent enough not to fling mud at her, you of all men."

James shrugged his shoulders and turned away in petulant disgust. "I see. You've heard her side of it and you've made up your mind. All right. I've nothing more to say."

"I've never heard her side of it. Her own mother doesn't know the truth.

Sam didn't know not till to-day. But I know her--and now I know you."

"That's no way to talk, Jeff. I admit I did wrong. Can a man say more than that? Do you want me to crawl on my hands and knees?"

"It's easy for you to forgive yourself."

"Maybe you think I haven't suffered too. I've lain awake nights worrying over this."

"Yes. For fear you might be found out."

"I intended to look out for the girl, but she disappeared without letting me know where she was going. What could I do?" The lawyer was studying his face very carefully in the gla.s.s. "My face is a sight. It will be weeks before that eye is fit to be seen."

Jeff turned away and left him. He walked to his rooms and found his uncle waiting for him. Robert Farnum had sold out his interests in Arkansas and returned to Verden with the intention of buying a small mill in the vicinity. Meanwhile he had the apartment next to the one used by his nephew.

"Seen anything of James lately?" he inquired as they started down the street to dinner.

"Yes. I saw him to-day. He's leaving town for a week or so."

"On business, I suppose. He didn't mention it when I saw him Wednesday."

"It's a matter that came up suddenly, I understand."

The father agreed proudly. There were moments when he had doubts of James, but he always stifled them by remembering what a splendid success he was. "Probably something n.o.body else could attend to but him."

"Exactly."

"It's amazing how that boy gets along. His firm has the cream of the corporation business of Verden. I never saw anything like it."

The younger man a.s.sented, rather wearily. Somehow to-night he did not feel like sounding the praises of James.

His uncle's kindly gaze rested on him. "Tired, boy?"

"I think I am a little. I'll be all right after we've had something to eat."

CHAPTER 22

But when your arms are full of girl and fluff You hide your nerve behind a yard of grin; You'd spit into a bulldog's face, or bluff A flock of dragons with a safety pin.

Life's a slow skate, but love's the dopey glim That puts a brewery horse in racing trim.

--Wallace Irwin.

CANARIES SING FOR THE HERO

Part 1

James Farnum had been back in Verden twenty-four hours. A few little scars still decorated his handsome visage, but he explained them away with the story of a motor car accident. Just now he was walking to the bank, and he had spoken his piece five times in a distance of three blocks. From experience he was getting letter perfect as to the details.

Even the idiotic joke about the clutch seemed now a necessary part of the recital.

It was just as he was crossing Powers that a motor car whirled around the corner and down upon a man descending from a street car. The chauffeur honked wildly and rammed the brakes home. Simultaneously James leaped, flinging his weight upon the man standing dazed in the path of the automobile. The two went down together, and for a moment Farnum knew only a crash of the senses.

He was helped to his feet. Voices, distant and detached, asked whether he was hurt. Blood trickled into his eyes from a cut in the head. It came to him oddly enough that his story about the motor car accident would now be true.

A slender figure in gray slipped swiftly past him and knelt beside the still shape lying on the asphalt.

"Bring water, Roberts!"

James knew that clear, sweet voice. It could belong only to Alice Frome.

"Are you much hurt, Mr. Farnum?"

"No, I think not--a cut over my eye and a few bruises."

"I'm so glad. But this poor old man--I'm afraid he's badly hurt."

"Was he run over?"

"No. You saved him from that. You don't know him, do you?"