“My agent says that he advised me two years ago that this reef existed, and wondered why I had never given him authority to bore. I have no recollection of his ever having told me anything of the sort. Now you know the position,” he said, putting back the letter and closing the drawer with a bang.
“You want me to wait for a better match,” said the girl.
He inclined his head.
“I don’t want you to get married for a fortnight,” he repeated.
May Nuttall went to bed that night full of doubt and more than a little unhappy. The story that John Minute told about her father—was it true? Was it a story invented on the spur of the moment to counter Frank’s plan? She thought of Frank and his almost solemn entreaty. There had been no mistaking his earnestness or his sincerity. If he would only take her into his confidence—and yet she recognized and was surprised at the revelation that she did not want that confidence. She wanted to help Frank very badly, and it was not the romance of the situation which appealed to her. There was a large sense of duty, something of that mother sense which every woman possesses, which tempted her to the sacrifice. Yet was it a sacrifice?
She debated that question half the night, tossing from side to side. She could not sleep, and, rising before the dawn, slipped into her dressing gown and went to the window. The rain had ceased, the clouds had broken and stood in black bars against the silver light of dawn. She felt unaccountably hungry, and after a second’s hesitation she opened the door and went down the broad stairs to the hall.
To reach the kitchen she had to pass her uncle’s door, and she noticed that it was ajar. She thought possibly he had gone to bed and left the light on, and her hand was on the knob to investigate when she heard a voice and drew back hurriedly. It was the voice of Jasper Cole.
“I have been into the books very carefully with Mackensen, the accountant, and there seems no doubt,” he said.
“You think—” demanded her uncle.
“I am certain,” answered Jasper, in his even, passionless tone. “The fraud has been worked by Frank. He had access to the books. He was the only person who saw Rex Holland; he was the only official at the bank who could possibly falsify the entries and at the same time hide his trail.”
The girl turned cold and for a moment swayed as though she would faint. She clutched the jamb of the door for support and waited.
“I am half inclined to your belief,” said John Minute slowly. “It is awful to believe that Frank is a forger, as his father was—awful!”
“It is pretty ghastly,” said Jasper’s voice, “but it is true.”
The girl flung open the door and stood in the doorway.
“It is a lie!” she cried wrathfully. “A horrible lie—and you know it is a lie, Jasper!”
Without another word, she turned, slamming the door behind her.
IX
Frank Merrill at the Altar
Frank Merrill stepped through the swing doors of the London and Western Counties Bank with a light heart and a smile in his eyes, and went straight to his chief’s office.
“I shall want you to let me go out this afternoon for an hour,” he said.
Brandon looked up wearily. He had not been without his sleepless moments, and the strain of the forgery and the audit which followed was telling heavily upon him. He nodded a silent agreement, and Frank went back to his desk, humming a tune.
He had every reason to be happy, for in his pocket was the special license which, for a consideration, had been granted to him, and which empowered him to marry the girl whose amazing telegram had arrived that morning while he was at breakfast. It had contained only four words:
Marry you today. May.
He could not guess what extraordinary circumstances had induced her to take so definite a view, but he was a very contented and happy young man.
She was to arrive in London soon after twelve, and he had arranged to meet her at the station and take her to lunch. Perhaps then she would explain the reason for her action. He numbered among his acquaintances the rector of a suburban church, who had agreed to perform the ceremony and to provide the necessary witnesses.
It was a beaming young man that met the girl, but the smile left his face when he saw how wan and haggard she was.
“Take me somewhere,” she said quickly.
“Are you ill?” he asked anxiously.
She shook her head.
They had the Pall Mall Restaurant to themselves, for it was too early for the regular lunchers.
“Now tell me, dear,” he said, catching her hands over the table, “to what do I owe this wonderful decision?”
“I cannot tell you, Frank,” she said breathlessly. “I don’t want to think about it. All I know is that people have been beastly about you. I am going to do all I possibly can to make up for it.”
She was a little hysterical and very much overwrought, and he decided not to press the question, though her words puzzled him.
“Where are you going to stay?” he asked.
“I am staying at the Savoy,” she replied. “What am I to do?”
In as few words as possible he told her where the ceremony was to be performed, and the hour at which she must leave the hotel.
“We will take the night train for the Continent,” he said.
“But your work, Frank?”
He laughed.
“Oh, blow work!” he cried hilariously. “I cannot think of work today.”
At two-fifteen he was waiting in the vestry for the girl’s arrival, chatting with his friend the rector. He had arranged for the ceremony to be performed at two-thirty; and the witnesses, a glum verger and a woman engaged in cleaning the church, sat in the pews of the empty building, waiting to earn
