University of Virginia Library

17. XVII

With a hurried good-by to the detective, they passed into the hall. Neither spoke as they walked through the deserted corridor, their footsteps echoing desolately against the closed doors. It was only when they were alone in the taxi that Betty's self-control gave way. She clutched the major's arm, her horror-stricken eyes devouring his face.

"Oh, Uncle Tod," she gasped, " did you recognize the cigarette-case?"

The major took her hand and began stroking it tenderly.

"There, there, my child," he said soothingly. "You mustn't take it so to heart! You'll make yourself ill!"

"Oh, Uncle Tod, don't stop to think about me! Do you know to whom it belongs?"

"Yes, I knew the initials."

Betty's hand tightened on his.

"What shall we do? Oh, why did it have to be I who found it?"

"Nonsense, child; some one was bound to find it sooner or later. As it happens, it is fortunate that it was you, for now we may be able to get the boy away before suspicion fastens on him. Will you tell the Crosbys, or shall I?"

"I will, of course," replied Betty hurriedly. "Oh, how ghastly, how awful for them! Do you really think he did it?"

She looked almost pleadingly into the candid face beside her. The major pursed up his lips and stroked his gray mustache thoughtfully.

"It's hard to say positively, Betty, but the boy's record is against him."

Betty nodded, and once again a tremor passed over her.

"Poor Uncle George!"

Her eyes filled with tears. Major Barry continued to stroke her hand, and began to tell her of the best course to be pursued to get Norman away. He drew a glowing picture of the openings for young men in faroff lands, where the boy would be cut off from his old associates and temptations. Gradually he led Betty's thoughts away from the horror of the situation, and she regained her self-possession.

But it was a very white, tremulous Betty who ascended the steps of her uncle's house, before which stood Norman's motor. As the major saw her disappear into the hall, he decided that he would follow her as soon as he had telephoned his discovery to Sturgis, who would convey the news to Cary.

Elizabeth went at once to the library, where she found Norman seated in a big chair with newspapers scattered around him. At the sight of her white face he jumped to his feet and came quickly to her.

"Betty!" he exclaimed hoarsely. "What is it?"

Steps sounded in the hall, and Norman glanced fearfully toward the door. A look of relief came into his face as his father and mother appeared.

"Has anything been found?" he faltered in a low voice, his eyes fixed on Betty's face.

"You must go — quick, Norman, quick! Don't stop to talk!" She was pushing him toward the door. "Your cigarette-case — it was found in Molly Delaney's room. Oh, Norman, hurry! Hurry!"

He started toward the door, but Mrs. Crosby laid a restraining band on his arm.

"Norman!" she cried. "What is it?"

He shook her off violently.

"Don't keep me! They've found — they'll be here for — for — "

He vanished up the stairs.

"Who are they, and what are they coming for?" asked George Crosby irascibly, coming toward Betty.

Elizabeth pressed her hands tightly together, and her lips quivered.

"Oh, Uncle George!" she moaned, going to him and laying her hand gently on his arm. "It's about Molly Delaney — "

Her voice trailed away into silence.

"Molly Delaney! Do they connect my son with that?"

Betty did not answer, but the expression on her face seemed to give him all the information he needed. He turned from her and, sinking into a big armchair, buried his head in his hands. Betty ran to him and put her hand on his shoulder.

"Oh, uncle dear!" she whispered.

A hurried step sounded in the hall, and Mrs. Crosby flew to the door.

"Good-by, my boy!" they heard her say.

George Crosby rose and with uncertain feet followed her. Betty walked beside him, watching him anxiously. When they reached the hall be put his hand into his breast pocket and, drawing out his wallet, took out the money it contained.

"You'll need this," he said huskily, and thrust it into Norman's hand.

There was a hurried good-by, the front door opened and slammed, and the feverish throb of the motor sounded in their ears. Swaying slightly, George Crosby turned again toward the library. Betty put her arm through his and guided him back to the chair by the fire. He fell into it, and his gray head dropped against the back. Mrs. Crosby followed them and stopped beside them.

"What does it all mean?" she asked harshly, turning to Betty.

As gently as she could, Betty told them of the search of Molly's room and the resulting discovery.

"Who found the cigarette-case?"

Mrs. Crosby's tone was sharp and quick. Betty hesitated, and it seemed as if every drop of blood in her body had flowed back to her heart, leaving her numb and cold. George Crosby raised his head and fixed haggard eyes upon her. The silence closed in upon them like the crushing walls of an inquisitional room.

"Was it you?"

Mrs. Crosby stepped menacingly toward Betty, who shrank from the look of implacable rage and hatred in her aunt's face.

"It was you!" she breathed fiercely.

You — you — traitor! Living in our house, taking advantage of information you got while we were saving you from starvation! And now — now" — her voice rose almost to a shriek — "you've hounded my boy out of his home! God only knows where he can go! Why did you do it? You've brought nothing but misery to us!"

Under the lash of her aunt's words, Betty's eyes had widened until they looked like pools of dark water reflecting the storm-clouds above. She wrung her hands piteously.

"I never thought — " she faltered.

"Never thought! Never thought!" repeated her aunt angrily. "No, you never think of any one but yourself and that precious lover of yours!"

The scorn in her voice was biting, and it stung Betty beyond control.

"And my father!" she supplemented passionately.

"Your father?" sneered Mrs. Crosby.

"Yes!" repeated Betty in a strained voice which she hardly recognized as her own. "If it had not been for the stigma on my father's name, I should never have felt justified in entering on this search. As it was — "

"And what did you find?"

Mrs. Crosby's thin lips were drawn back in a derisive smile. Betty hesitated, and her eyes wandered to the gray head resting on the back of the chair. Her chin trembled a little.

"What did you find?" demanded Mrs. Crosby once more. "In spite of the ruin you've brought on us, you've found nothing that clears your father's name, or ever will!"

Major Barry's immaculate figure appeared in the doorway.

"I think you're wrong there," he remarked quietly, after a searching look at Elizabeth's quivering face. "We've been looking into Randolph's affairs a bit lately — some of his business associates and I — and we've discovered quite a number of things."

Mrs. Crosby's face blanched, the two brilliant spots of color standing out grotesquely on her cheeks. George Crosby's eyes fixed themselves feverishly on the major's face.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean this, Mrs. Crosby — when Randolph died he left some very valuable stock, which has since been sold — "

George Crosby's hand tightened on the arm of his chair until even the nails showed white. His face was livid.

"How do you know?"

"I know through one of the other directors of the concern, in which Randolph held a large interest. This man has traced the sale of the stock." He turned suddenly to George Crosby. "Do you deny it?"

George Crosby sank even deeper into the big chair, and his hand went up to his sagging mouth. Unable to meet the accusing eyes fixed on him, his head fell forward until his chin rested on his chest. Betty took a hurried step forward.

"Uncle Tod, what is it? I don't quite understand — "

"My dear, it's simply this — your father died, as we all believed, a very rich man. It is since his death that his money has been dissipated."

"Oh!" The word was hardly more than a sigh. "Who — "

"That's just it; who could have sacrificed your interests and betrayed your father's confidence? Who had the power?"

Again the major's condemning eyes sought George Crosby's stricken figure.

"Uncle George, did you do this thing?" Betty drew nearer and nearer to him, her eyes wide, her mouth quivering. "You, whom my father loved and trusted? Oh, tell me it isn't true!"

She sank down on her knees beside him and clutched his arm. There was a long silence.

"It is true!" came at length, in hollow tones, from the bowed head.

Betty drew back slowly, as if still loath to believe what she heard.

"My father's brother!" The words seemed drawn from her. "And he loved you!

The man before her shuddered.

"Betty!" he groaned. "I didn't mean — "

As if in hope that he was about to disclaim his culpability, Betty stooped eagerly toward him; but he stopped abruptly, and once more the gray head fell forward. A heavy silence wrapped itself about them, which at last Mrs. Crosby's harsh voice broke.

"Well, it's all out now!" she said violently. "I suppose you'll send your uncle to join Norman in prison!"

Betty looked at her aunt as if her words were husks void of the grain of meaning. Bending over her uncle's huddled form, she stroked his gray head tenderly; then she stooped over and kissed him.

"Uncle George, don't worry about it!" she whispered so softly that the words hardly reached the others. "I'm sure it was all a mistake. I don't believe it was for yourself you took the money. At all events, it will never make any difference between you and me."

A great sob shook the bent shoulders. George Crosby caught her hand and held it to his lips. Betty kissed him again, and then, holding out her hand to Major Barry, drew him out of the house.