"THIEF!"
"A man who is a thief!" The words fell distinctly from Carmody's lips
with the studied quiet of desperation. Ethel stared wild-eyed at the
speaker, and in the frozen silence of the room her tiny fists doubled
until the knuckles whitened.
Noting the effect upon the girl, he continued, speaking more rapidly
now that the dreaded word had been uttered.
"I had no wish to tell you this thing. It is a secret I would gladly
have kept locked within my own breast. But I came here this evening
with a purpose--to save, in spite of herself, if need be, the daughter
of my dead friend from a life of suffering which would inevitably fall
to the lot of any pure-hearted woman who linked her life with that of
an unscrupulous scoundrel, in whom even common decency is dead, if,
indeed, it ever lived."
"He is _not_ a thief! He----" began Ethel vehemently, but the man
interrupted her.
"Wait until you have heard the facts. Last week, on Friday, there was
entrusted to my son's care for delivery a heavy manila envelope
containing fifty thousand dollars' worth of negotiable bonds. It was a
matter of vital importance that these be delivered within a specified
time. Ignoring this fact, he pocketed the bonds, and, in company with a
number of his acquaintances, indulged in a drunken spree which
culminated after midnight in a disgraceful street scene in the Broadway
theatre district.
"The following morning, when I confronted him, he flouted me to my
face, whereupon I virtually disinherited him. Not wishing to turn him
away penniless, I handed him a check for a considerable amount which he
saw fit to destroy melodramatically in my presence. Upon my request for
the return of the securities, he handed me an envelope identical with
that in which the bonds had been placed. I carried the packet to the
bank where it was opened and found to contain not the bonds--but those
letters.
"To avoid a scandal I made good the loss. I learned later, through
investigation, that upon leaving home he came directly to this house,
where he remained for upward of a half-hour.
"Further than this I know nothing of his movements except that he
reentered the taxi and proceeded down-town. At Thirty-Fourth Street,
where the chauffeur slowed down for instructions, he found the cab
empty."
"And _these_ are the facts upon which you base your accusation?" asked
the girl coldly. "You, his own father!"
"To an unbiased mind the evidence allows but one interpretation."
"But his eyes! Oh, can't you see there has been some mistake? His eyes
are not the eyes of a thief!"
"There has been no mistake. A most thorough search of the premises has
failed to disclose a trace of the missing securities. In his desk from
which he took the substituted packet were found several similar
envelopes, but these contained only worthless rubbish--newspaper
clippings of sporting events and the like.
"No, Miss Ethel, when William Carmody left my house that morning he
carried with him those bonds. And he came here, knowing that he was a
thief, with his pocket bulging with plunder!
"As I told you, I know nothing of the relations existing between you
and my son. I only hope that he has gone forever out of your life, as
he has gone out of mine."
The light died out of the girl's eyes and her voice sounded strangely
dull as she replied:
"Yes, he has gone out of my life--maybe forever. He came to me here, to
tell me that he was going away to make good. And I--I was not big
enough to see it. I sent him away with a sneer. Bill is no thief. For
what he has been you are to blame--you and the Carmody money. For the
first time in his life he has a fair chance. He has left New York the
man you made him. He will return the man he makes himself. Oh! If--if I
only----"
"There, there, Miss Ethel, your loyalty is admirable, if misplaced----"
"Don't speak to me of loyalty! I have been as narrow and as _mean_
as--as _you_ have!"
"My dear girl, you are overwrought. The sooner we learn that William
Carmody has ceased to exist the better it will be for both of us. I bid
you good-night."
The girl sank into the depths of her big chair and watched the
sputtering little jet-flames lick futilely at the artificial logs of
the fireplace. Believing herself alone, she was startled by the sound
of footsteps hurrying noisily across the room. The next instant a
tousle-headed boy with eyes ablaze was at her side working her hands
like pump-handles.
"By Jimmy, Eth, you're a brick--the way you gave it to him! You bet
I'll tell Bill how you stuck up for him."
"Charlie Manton! You were listening--eavesdropping."
"I didn't! I wasn't! I mean I couldn't help hearing! The door of the
den was open and I was in there studying. Old man Carmody is an old
liar!"
"Charlie!"
"Well, he is, and you know it! I hate him! You bet he wouldn't dare
call Bill a thief to his face! Bill could lick forty-seven like him
with one hand tied behind his back. Bill is square. He wouldn't swipe a
million dollars--let alone a rotten, measly fifty thousand!"
"Charlie Manton! What kind of talk is that? You ought to be ashamed!"
"Well, I ain't--so there! And I'm Bill's friend, and I ain't afraid to
say so, either. You do love Bill--and you know it! You can claim you
hate him till you're black in the face, but you can't fool _me_! What
did you stick up for him for if you hated him? I bet old man Carmody
swiped the bonds himself!"
"Stop right there! Aren't you ashamed to speak so disrespectfully of
Mr. Carmody? He was an old friend of father's."
"I don't care if he was. I'm an old friend of Bill's, too. And Bill
_ain't_ a thief, no matter what he says!"
"You go to bed this minute. I am surprised and mortified to think that
you would be so contemptible as to listen to other people's affairs."
"'Taint any worse than lying!"
The boy stamped angrily from the room, and the girl sat long by the
fire and, one by one, fed letters to the flames.