The Washington herald., 1912-06-02
CHAPTER xYI-Continued.

She seemed, indeed, like a person
dreaming, not wholly able to realize the
things happening around her, even the
moments that passed Deane waited
upon her at breakfast and talked II
a matter-of-fact way, accepting her
monosyllabic answers as natural things
carrying on a conversation, too, with
the man who waited at the sideboard
By degrees, a more natural expression
came into her face. When at last the
meal was over and the servant had left
the room, she burst suddenly into tears.
Deane took her outside and placed her
in a chair, sitting by her side on the
sands.
Now" he said, that is all over"
When can / 60 back?" she asked
suddenly. "They will let me see Basil.
l must go and tell him"
He knows, of course" Deane re-
piled, but naturally he will want to
see you. You can leave here in about
an hour. am not sure-perhaps / may
come with you"
She sat there quietly, absolutely con-
tent to lie still and gaze out at the sea
Presently Grant came out with note,
dated from The Cottage, Rskney.
Dear Mr.. Deane-My niece knows,
and she insists upon going to London
at once. We are all very much dis
turbed. If it is not troubling you too
much when you are passing this way,
we should be so grateful if you would
call in for a minute"
Deane looked thoughtfully seward,
and his face hardened as he crumpled
the note up in his hand. Then he rose
TO his feet. Il am going IN to see
about the trains for you" he said.
He hired cart from the village, and
they stood together on the platform Of
the nearest railway station, an hour or
so later. She laid her arm upon his
sleeve.
will you stop for a moment,
please?" she said Il am afraid must
have seemed ungracious. After all, /
ought to be very grateful to you"
He shook his head. MOI he an
swered 1T is always / who must be
your debtor. ought to have been
frmer with your brother when ! sent
him to this man Sinclair to make terms.
1t was a desperate enterprise, after all,
and l ought to have realized the danger
of your brother being tempted to use
violence. To me he was nothing more
than a unit of humanity, and l took
him at his word. If he had brought
me the paper wanted, was quite pre-
pared to ask him no questions what
ever, and he would have been a rich
man. 1 can't help feeling that in a
sense l am responsible for his present
position and yours"
She looked away from him. Her eyes
were fixed upon the horizon. She ap-
peared to be steadily thinking the mat
ter out The wind blew little wisps Of
fair hair over her face Her eyes were
steadfast, her forehead little wrinkled.
She seemed to be endeavoring TO arrive
at a conscientious decision.
Nor she said, after some time, Il
cannot see that you are to blame. l
am sure that It never entered into your
head that my brother might be tempted
to use violence"
Deane looked away with a little
frown. In his heart he knew very well
that he was not so surel We'll" he
said, we will let that go. At any rate,
my responsibility to you remains. Tell
me what l can do? How can l help
She shook her head. T am going
back to my work, she said. Il need
no help"
Your work." he repeated.
She nodded, with a little sigh. Il
am a typist," she said. You know
what that means-genteel starvation.
long hours, gray days. Never mind, l
am almost used to II"
you need be a typist no longer un-
less you choose" he said. Part of
what I promised to your brother be-
longs to you"
She shook her head. Don't speak
of it," she exclaimed. q should feel
that it was blood money"
AT least let me hear from you
sometimes" he said. Don't let me
lose sight of you altogether while your
brother is unable to help you"
She hesitated. Then, lifting her eyes |
to his, Il don't believe" she said soft
ly. that you would tell me anything !
that was not true"
4 don't believe that l should" he |
answered.
Then tell me this" she said, 'hon-
estly When you made my brother |
that offer, when you sent him to deal |
with this man Sinclair, can you tell me |
that you had not an idea in your mind |
that he might be led on to do something |
rash?"
Deane hesitated He was not a man |
of overstrict scruples, but he hated |
lies. Somehow or other, IT seemed to |
him impossible to look at this girl and |
tell her anything that was not the truth. |
Il am not altogether sure" he an |
swered. AT the back of my head |
there was just the idea that your broth
er was desperate, that he would gain /
what he wanted, somehow or other"
She turned away, and walked little /
way down the platform. The train was |
already in the station. She entered a
carriage and sat in the furthest corner.
Thank you" she said. 81 am glad l
that you have told me the truth. Would.
you mind going away now, please"
Il am sorry," Deane said simply Re
member that / only did what ninety
nine men out of a hundred would have /
done in my place. wanted that paper,
and your brother begged for just such
an enterprise"
She held out her hands. 'If you
DleaseP she said. "Good-by!"
Deane turned away. The girl was a
little fool, of course. Yet as he turned
and watched the smoke of the train
disappear. and thought of her in her
empty third-class carriage, alone, he
was conscious of sense of acute de-
pression-none the less acute because
i was vague. He turned back to the
village walking with heavy stems Tt