The next morning ushered in one of those days in June which make the
spirit rejoice.
When Mary left Helen's, she thought she had never known the sky so blue,
the world so fair, the air so full of the breath of life, the song of
birds, the scent of flowers.
Wally was definitely out of danger and Helen was nursing him back to
strength like a ministering angel, every touch a caress, every glance a
look of love.
"Now if Burdon will only leave her alone," thought Mary as she turned the
car toward the factory.
She needn't have worried.
Before she had time to look at her mail, Joe announced that the two
accountants were waiting to see her.
"They've been hanging around for the last half hour," he confidentially
added. "I guess they want to catch a train or something."
"All right, Joe," she nodded. "Show them in."
They entered, and for the first time since she had known them, Mary
thought she saw a trace of excitement in their manner--such, for
instance, as you might expect to see in two learned astronomers who had
seen Sirius the dog-star rushing over the heavens in pursuit of the Big
Bear--or the Virgin seating herself in Cassiopeia's Chair.
"We finished our report last night," said the elder, handing her a copy.
"As you will see, we have discovered a very serious situation in the
treasurer's department."
It struck Mary later that she showed no surprise. Indeed, more than once
in the last few days, when noticing Burdon's nervous recklessness, she
had found herself connecting it with the auditors' work upon the books.
"I would have asked Mr. Woodward for an explanation," continued the
accountant, "but he has been absent yesterday and today. However, as you
will see, no explanation can possibly cover the facts disclosed. There is
a clear case for criminal action against him."
"I don't think there will be any action," said Mary, looking up after a
pause. "I'm sure his father will make good the shortage." But when she
looked at the total she couldn't help thinking, "It will be a tight
squeeze, though, even for Uncle Stanley."
Now that it was over, she felt relieved, as though a load had lifted from
her mind. "He'll never bother Helen again," she found herself thinking.
"Perhaps I had better telephone Judge Cutler and let him handle it--"
The judge promised to be down at once, and Mary turned to her mail. Near
the bottom she found a letter addressed in Burdon's writing. It was
unstamped and had evidently been left at the office. The date-line simply
said "Midnight."
It was a long letter, some of it clear enough and some of it obscure.
Mary was puzzling over it when Judge Cutler and Hutchins entered. As far
as she could remember, it was the first time that the butler had ever
appeared at the factory.
"Anything wrong?" she asked in alarm.
"He was in my office when you telephoned," said the judge. "I'll let him
tell his story as he told it to me.... I think I ought to ask you
something first, though.... Did any one ever tell you that you had a
brother Paul? ..."
"Yes," said Mary, her heart contracting.
Throughout the recital she sat breathless. Now and then the colour rose
to her cheeks, and more than once the tears came to her eyes, especially
when Hutchins' voice broke, and when he said in tones of pride, "Before
we could stop him, Master Paul was over the rail and in the water--"
More than once Mary looked away to hide her emotion, glancing around the
room at her forebears who had never seemed so attentive as then. "You may
well listen," thought Mary. "He may have been the black sheep of the
family, but you see what he did in the end...."
Hutchins told them about the search which he and Archey had made up and
down the banks, aided with a flashlight, climbing, calling, and sometimes
all but falling in the stream themselves. "But it was no use, Miss Mary,"
he concluded. "Master Paul is past all finding, I'm afraid."
For a long time Mary sat silent, her handkerchief to her eyes.
"Archey is still looking," said the judge, rising. "I'll start another
searching party at once. And telephone the towns below, too. We are bound
to find him if we keep on looking, you know--"
They found him sooner than they expected, in the grassy basin at the bend
of the river, where the high water of the night before had borne him--in
the place where he had loved to dream his dreams of youth and adventure
when life was young and the future full of promise. He was lying on his
side, his head on his arm, his face turned to the whispering river, and
there perhaps he was dreaming again--those eternal dreams which only
those who have gone to their rest can know.