"You're going it blind like that," he ran on, disregarding me,--"Salmon
and Byrd," with a laugh--"losing all your money and
then--Visconti's--slaving for the kids--meeting it all--by gad, you are
living life!--heroic, I call it--I take off my hat to you!"
"Put it on again," I murmured, moved by his vehemence. It was certainly
agreeable to hear such words from Dibdin, who never lied. Praise is a
savory dish, not a thing that my misspent life has been surfeited with,
and it was exquisitely soothing to one's vanity. But it was clear
enough that Dibdin was wrong. His usually lucid view was obscured by
the tangle of circumstances that weighed upon him. Naturally, I could
not leave him in his error.
"If you knew," I managed to stammer, "the malignant fear that is eating
my liver white, you--"
"Fear of what?" he broke in.
"Of turning those kids over to him;" I lowered my voice--"just that
and--nothing else."
"Just that," he repeated gloomily, nodding his head. "Who would have
supposed it? By the Lord! If ever there was a bull in a China shop, I
am that bull. Why the devil did I ever pick the brute up? Look here!"
he flashed with sudden inspiration, "why not deport him as we imported
him, eh? I might manage it--I might!"
"No--no, Dibdin--neither you nor I would do such a thing."
"Why not?" he growled.
"That would make us--worse than he is, or was," I explained sadly. For
I must own that for an instant my heart leaped at his suggestion.
"Besides," I went on prosily, "it's not so easy to lay a ghost when once
you've raised it. We've got to believe him, Dibdin, my boy--if only for
the young ones' sake. He will probably get his job, and the thing to do
now is not to arouse his suspicion of how we feel about him. Believe
everything he says--believe in him. Thousands every year, according to
the newspapers, turn up willfully missing! He was tired of the humdrum
life and lit out; that is all there was to it. Now he wants to try
back. You yourself thought he ought to have another chance."
There was genuine pathos in old Dibdin's voice when he spoke out with a
humid somber look:
"By George, that chap's the Nemesis of us all! By his one willful act
of destructive irresponsibility he has affected all our lives
destructively. It's maddening that one worthless brute should be able
to do all that. He killed Laura, damn him; he orphaned these kids; he's
upset your life--he makes wretched conspirators of you and me--g-r-r-r!
I'd like to pound him to a jelly!"