"Yes, I took money to acquit Challoner, and then I convicted him. Why?
Because the instinct within me to do my duty was too strong to allow me
to do otherwise. All the evidence was against him; he had confessed; I
had to convict him."
"And the money--" ventured Shirley.
"Like a dipsomaniac,--a reformed dipsomaniac,--I put that money as he
might have his bottle, on the shelf--corked. There it was--I could have
it any time I wanted it." His face became more serious as he proceeded:
"Then I kept on being a thief, for there was a new and overpowering
motive that got the best of me. Like the reformed dipsomaniac I was
determined to see what I could do without it. It became a passion with
me. I knew that every move I made meant the expenditure of money. A
hundred times, yes, a thousand times I have had my fingers on those
seals about to break them, and then have crawled away--once more to do
without the money. Somehow, I knew, that my time must come. Besides,
there was that overwhelming ambition,--prompted by a woman."
Shirley hung her head.
"Yes," he went on fiercely, "a woman who must have her due; it was up to
me to be something more than merely honest. Anybody could be honest, she
told me, but not everybody could be great!"
Shirley ventured to look up at him, but meeting his gaze fixed on her
face, she shifted her eyes instantly.
"Then there was the United States senatorship,--the fairest office in
the State,--which I knew I could buy with the money for which I had sold
my soul. Again and again I came into this office and went to that vault
there, determined to break the seals of the covers on those boxes--to
buy the United States senatorship. But I could not bring myself to do
it. Something always said to me: 'YOU MUST DO WITHOUT IT! YOU MUST BE
HONEST! YOU MUST MAKE A CLEAN FIGHT!' Yet, still, I was a thief: holding
thousands that didn't belong to me. But always upon me was that
all-absorbing passion,--a passion, not to use, but to do without the
thing which was at my finger's ends,--an incentive without which I could
not succeed. And so," he concluded, "I went in and won without it."
A tense silence followed the prosecutor's amazingly frank revelation of
his temptation and the success which he extorted from it. Unconsciously,
he assumed an attitude which it would not be unfair to describe as a
defensive one, in readiness, as it were, for any possible strictures on
his conduct. Nothing of the sort, however, was forthcoming. On the
contrary, at least, as far as Mrs. Challoner was concerned, at no time,
not even when his self-arraignment had been the most severe, had his
terrible words succeeded in driving the happy light from her eyes. There
were moments, it is true, when a dull pallour had spread over her
features, a pallour, however, caused solely by sudden stings of
agonising memories, and those soft brown eyes had been raised to his
questioningly; but his personality had ever been more or less baffling
and mysterious to her; and so, whether semi-fascinated or not, they left
him thoroughly satisfied with their scrutiny.
Probably better than any one present, Challoner realised to the full
what Murgatroyd had suffered. Manlike, however, he was more than willing
to permit the great work that Murgatroyd had done to overshadow
completely his questionable proceedings. Of course, Challoner was quite
well aware that the prosecutor's actions viewed in the light of a
successful campaign wore an entirely different aspect than they would
had he failed to obtain the senatorship. In the latter case it was
inevitable, no matter what moral satisfaction he could derive from the
return of the money,--and in fairness to Challoner be it said that he
never once questioned it,--that in addition to the humiliation of a
ruined career, the prosecutor would have to endure the mortification of
knowing that his loss of self-respect was wholly futile. But in any
event, Challoner was too generous not to accept without reservation
Murgatroyd's contention that, at least in part, he was actuated by a
praiseworthy desire to save his wife and him from the results of his
dissipations. To a man, such as Challoner now was, it can easily be
imagined, therefore, that he would regard that alone as sufficient
reason to overlook everything else, and so rising, he grabbed
impulsively Murgatroyd's hand, saying:--
"Not another word, old man! It's all right!"
Murgatroyd was visibly affected.
"Thank you," he said simply; and then added: "Only one thing more
remains to be done. Mrs. Challoner, I must ask you to break these
seals."
Miriam demurred.
"Oh, no, Mr. Murgatroyd!" she said. "Surely you must know that I believe
you!"
But Murgatroyd insisted; and obeying him finally, Miriam broke the
seals, and presently she showed to them the securities, undisturbed,
just as Murgatroyd had taken them, dollar for dollar, bond and bond.
Suddenly Murgatroyd felt a touch on the arm.
"And I believe you, Billy," said Shirley contritely.
An enigmatical smile passed across the prosecutor's face.
"Do you, indeed?" he said dryly; and added: "That's, perhaps, more than
I had any right to expect."
A slight pucker showed on Miss Bloodgood's beautiful brow, but she
replied, quite unruffled:--
"Why, of course, I do. After all, you were honest, weren't you?" And not
waiting for his answer, added ingenuously: "You were not a thief!"
Instantly the expression on Murgatroyd's face became a very serious one.
"Yes, I was," he protested, "I was a thief." And with that he turned to
Challoner and said in a voice of great feeling: "Challoner, this money
is your wife's. Take it. And great God, man," he groaned, "don't, don't
forget what it did to you--what it made you, years ago."
Mrs. Challoner shivered at the prosecutor's earnestness; but Challoner,
hesitating for a moment only, advanced and said:--
"We'll take it. I'm not a bit afraid now, Murgatroyd--for I _know_." And
then holding out his hand, he continued kindly: "Billy, if you hadn't
taken it--where would I have been to-day?"
"Free--free as you are now," said the other man in a low, strained tone.
"Yes," assented Challoner, "out of prison, but----"
Mrs. Challoner quickly rose and put an end to the conversation going on
between the men.
"Come, Laurie," she said abruptly; and holding out her hand, "good-bye,
Mr. Murgatroyd! I'm afraid we have taken up altogether too much of your
time."
Murgatroyd shook hands with the Challoners; but on Shirley making her
adieus, he said:--
"May I have a moment with you, Miss Bloodgood? Won't you wait, please?"