"I wouldn't."
"Yes, you would. It's this way, and there's no other way to it: The old
man has missed money from the safe. He hasn't said so, but I can tell
by the way he acts."
Goyle smiled. "Well, but no one but himself knows the combination of
the safe. He doesn't know that you found a piece of paper with the
figures on it, does he?"
"Of course not, but it won't be long before he begins to suspect
someone."
"Which, necessarily, fastens it on you. Is that it?"
"Doesn't it look like it?"
"Oh, it might," said Goyle. "That is, if you let it?"
Bodney looked at him with reproach. "If I let it. How the deuce can I
help it? You don't suppose he'd suspect his son Howard, do you? No man
could trust a son more than he does."
Goyle shrugged his shoulders. "Didn't trust him with the combination of
the safe, did he?"
"No, for it's his idea of business not to trust anyone absolutely. He
laughs and jokes all right enough, and says that this is a fine old
world, but he hasn't quite forgotten that he practiced law among
rascals."
"Yes," said Goyle, leaning back and stretching himself. "This soft air
makes me lazy. It's not natural, you know, to be comfortable in
Chicago. What were we talking about?"
Bodney turned upon him almost fiercely, but the visitor looked at him
with the self-command of impudent laziness. He was not given to starts.
He was born a rascal, and had cultivated his legacy. Coolness may be a
virtue; it is also the strongest weapon of the scoundrel, and Goyle was
always cool. He motioned with his hand, bowed, smiled, and Bodney's
anger was gone.
"Don't get hot, old man," said he. "Everything is all right. If it
isn't, we'll make it so. Oh, yes, we were talking about the old
gentleman's suspicions. And we've got to take care of them. If I
understand it, Howard is to marry your sister. You are all of a family.
Your father and the Judge were law partners years ago, and you and your
sister were adopted by--"
Bodney waved his hand impatiently. "We know all about that. Yes, and
he has been a father to me and I have been--"
"A villain, necessarily," Goyle broke in. "Villainy is born in us, and
for a time we may hide out our inheritance, but we can't get away from
it. And it's only the weak that struggle against it. The lamb is born
with wool and the dog with hair. No, we can't get away from it."
"But we needn't delight in it," said Bodney, with a faint struggle.
"No, and we needn't lie down on it, either. But, to business. The
Judge must know who took the money from the safe."