'Whether Dick killed Christy. He was willing to believe he might have been mistaken—for Nan's sake.'
'For Nan's sake,' Dorothy repeated slowly.
'How did you find out?'
'Oh, Blanche said there was an aunt. Then I talked to Kate. Kate says he was crazy about the baby.' Dorothy was looking at events past with troubled eyes.
'McCauley? Yes, 'Polly McCauley' he used to call her. Silly pet rhyme.'
'Polly McCauley.' Dorothy tried to smile because she was beginning to feel like crying.
'McCauley isfi't psycho,' Johnny said sadly. 'He is saintly. What a comment on the times, that I couldn't tell the difference! He's worried himself sick over tlie whole thing. Knowing he didn't do it. BeHeving Dick did. And yet,' Johnny hit one hand with the edge of his other palm, 'having the incredible charity to remember 'about being in love, when you are young.'
'Oh, poor mani Poor Emilyl Johnny, you ought to hava told us.'
1 wasn t sure.
'It wasn't necessary to be sure,' she flamed. ''Who elected you the judge? You can't be the judge! Johnny, she cant marry Dick, not knowing all of this. You must not let her break her father's heart all over again in ignorance!' cried Dorothy. 'Johnny, that's wrong!'
He said grimly, 'Poor Nan.'
'Poor Clinton McCauley,' said Dorothy, blazing.
Because Dorothy must return Bart's car, they went in it
together. On the way, Johnny told her about the old man having sent money for the baby, and the possibility that Dick had hunted Nan out.
Dorothy was neither surprised nor impressed. 'I knew there must be something,' was all she said.
'So he went for the money,' Johnny said, 'from the be-giiming. I think he must have been furious that the old man left him no part of the family business. If we could make Nan see that.'
Dorothy shivered. 'Johnny, Dick is a monster, isn't he?' 'A ring-tailed doozer,' Johnny muttered. 'And not a drop of proof. The secret alibi was faked. We can't prove why. But I can't imagine why, unless he knew when Christy died. Can you?'
Dorothy said, 'Didn't they put McCauley in prison without a lot of real proof, Johnny?'
'Seems so, now. Now, that the cUmate has changed.' 'Poor Chnton McCauley.'
Johnny started to say, 'Poor Nan' again, but he did not.
Bart himself opened the door. 'Come in,' he said cordially.
'I hope you've had dinner? We are all sitting meekly in the
study, because the parlor is not to be contaminated. Seems
it is ready for a wedding. Come on back.'
Dorothy slipped off her coat and dropped it on a hall chair. They followed Bart. Neither had done more than make a polite sound in the throat.
In the small squaie room a fire was buj-ning, for other pleasure than its heat. The old lady was still up, stationed in the corner where Johnny had first laid eyes on her. She looked disgruntled. (She had been ordered out of the living room by Blanche and Bart.) Blanche was the hostess here. She greeted them with smiles. 'Everything is ready as it can be. The corsages are coming early.'
'Mayest hear the merry din,' said Dorothy, in a strange voice.
There was a black leather chair to the left of the fire. In it, sat Dick Bartee and, on the black leather footstool, close to his knee, sat Nan. She hardly seemed to notice the newcomers. Her face wore a look of dreaming wonder. 'The guests are met, the feast is set, mayest hear the merry din,' ' Bart quoted. ' 'Held off, unhand me gray-
beard loon . . I' Sit down. Miss Dorothy. I'll fetch another chair.'
'Don't bother,' said Johnny. 'I'd as soon stand for what I've got to say.' Dick Bartee put his head back sharply. Nan didn't even seem to hear.
'I am the 'graybeard loon/ I guess,' said Johnny. 'Something has to be told, right now.' He felt tense and determined. 'Emily Padgett told me a secret.'
''What's he saying?' the old lady mumbled. 'What are you saying, young man?'
'You must listen to me carefully,'' Johnny said to her. 'Chnton McCauley and his wife Christy had a baby girl.'
'Yes,' said the old lady. 'Little girl. Mary was her name. Mary Christine.'
'Nan is that baby girl.'
Bart who had been leaning on the wall bent forward in surprise. Blanche bridled.
'Who?' said the old lady.
'This girl,' said Johnny loudly and distinctly. 'Nan is your great-granddaughter. Her real name is Mary McCauley.'
The pair in the black leather comer had not moved at all.
