"But—I won't have it."
"Better not interfere, sir. I've men outside to help me, and—I'm going to take 'em. Come now." He caught Betty by the arm and marched her, half fainting, toward the door.
At this moment Hester Storm lifted her eyes, opened her lips, and spoke in a strange, low tone:
"Wait! You mustn't take her. She didn't steal the money. She had nothing to do with it. I stole the money. I put it in that desk. I'm the one to take."
"Hester!" cried Betty. "You—you put that money in my desk?" repeated Betty slowly.
"Yes. I meant to steal it or—I meant to steal half of it, but—when you sang that song about—her promise true, why—I thought how you'd been good to me, and—trusted me, and—I sneaked in here and left the money. The drawer was open, and I snapped it shut. Then, when I made my getaway he pinched me." She turned to Grimes.
The detective lowered his head as if he was studying the girl through his eyebrows.
"You told me a different story just now?" he said.
"Sure I did. I lied. You know I lied. You don't think I'm stuck on gettin' sent away for ten years, do ye? But if it's got to be her or me, well, I won't have her sent away when all she's done is to treat me right and try to save me. You can take that from Hester Storm."
"This is a rare and beautiful instance of gratitude and devotion," commented Bunchester.
"That's all right, Bish; but I want to know more about this." Hiram turned to Hester, who was standing with bowed head and clasped hands. "Well, fer a girl who talks about stealin'—I guess some o' the honest folks could take lessons from you. Say, I didn't quite get that about how you planned to steal half o' this money? Where did the half come in? Why didn't ye plan to steal all of it?"
Then, little by little, with questions from Grimes and more questions from Hiram the Storm girl told her story, sometimes in broken words, as her feelings overpowered her, but in the main simply and bravely and truthfully, as one who is strengthened by some higher power. She went back to her childhood and spoke of her sister Rosalie. She told of her wanderings and waywardness, then of her visit to Ippingford and her meeting with Horatio Merle. Then, finally, of her efforts to return the money and of the persecution she had suffered at the hands of Anton. She kept nothing back, and she made no excuse for herself. She had sinned and it was right that she should suffer.
As Hester finished her confession every heart went out to her in genuine sympathy, and Grimes was seen to wipe his eyes.
"I want to say," he remarked, "that I've seen some strange cases in my time, but when it comes to a woman trying to steal money over again that she's stolen once so as to give it back—why, that's a new one on me."
"Ye can't ever tell what a woman's goin' to do," nodded Baxter.
"Anyway, I owe you an apology, Miss Thompson," the detective went on, and there was a little catch in his voice as he met Betty's grave, beautiful eyes. "Things certainly did look black against you, but—all I can say is, I'm sorry, Miss, I'm sorry."
"It's all right, old man," said Bob.
Whereupon the Bishop of Bunchester, clearing his throat ponderously, addressed these comforting words to Hester Storm: "My dear young friend, I am inexpressively touched by this story of your struggles and temptations and your splendid moral victory. It is a most meritorious case and one that the Society of Progressive Mothers will take up with enthusiasm. As for the outcome of this affair, speaking for the Progressive Mothers' Society and for myself, as bishop of this diocese, I can assure you that there will be no unpleasant consequences, so far as you are concerned. The money has been returned. You have truly repented of your sin and you have given an illustration of spiritual regeneration that will long be treasured in the annals of the Progressive Mothers' Society.
"And now, my dear Miss Thompson, how shall I express my great joy——" The bishop turned to Betty, and was about to launch forth into another sounding period when Hiram Baxter interrupted him.
"Excuse me, Bish, fer breakin' in on yer speech, but—I've had a bad day in town, and—if you don't mind takin' the detective into the next room and finishin' up the details of this purse business with him, why——"
Baxter leaned back in his chair with signs of physical distress—"ye see, I'm just about all in."
"Why, certainly, my dear friend. Let us come in here." And, motioning to Grimes and Hester, he led the way into the conservatory and carefully closed the door behind him.
"Father! Is anything wrong?" asked Bob in concern.
"Guardy, you're ill?"
With anxious faces the young lovers stood beside the old man, who smiled at them wearily.
"Children, I've got bad news fer ye, awful bad news for ye," he said. "I've made the best fight I could, but that Henderson bunch, they've done me up. Independent Copper broke twenty points to-day in the New York market, and—I was long of the stock. My man cabled me the tip to sell, but I never got it. I never got it. That cable was held up." He bent forward, resting his big grizzled head on his hands in an attitude of utter despair. "It's all off, children. It's all off."
Betty's heart was pounding violently as she listened. Things had happened so rapidly in the last few hours that she had scarcely thought of Lionel and his wild sprint for the cable office. Had he failed to get there in time? Had he made some mistake? What could have happened to Lionel?
"Excuse me a moment," she said, and hurrying toward the conservatory, she threw open the door and looked about her.
One glance showed that something had happened, for her eyes fell on a murmuring group gathered about Anton and the detective. And there in the group, calmly smoking a cigarette, was Lionel Fitz-Brown.
"Lionel!" Betty called, addressing him by his Christian name for the first time in her life. "Please come here—quick." And then, when he stood before her, very indignantly: "The idea of your not coming to tell me!"
"Tell you about what?" he asked blankly.
"About the cable. Did you—were you in time?"
Fitz-Brown adjusted his monocle with great care, then, gradually, a smile spread over his face. "Oh, I say! The cable! You see, I got so beastly wet in the storm, Miss Thompson, that I—well, the fact is, I had on thin flannel trousers and they jolly well shrunk up to my knees and—haw, haw, haw!" He exploded into uproarious merriment.
"Oh, Mr. Fitz-Brown," she wrung her hands beseechingly, "please tell me if you got the cable off by twelve?"
Lionel laid a reflective forefinger along his nose. "By twelve? No. No, I didn't."
"You didn't?" Betty's heart sank.
"I go it off five minutes before twelve. Haw, haw, haw!" He fairly doubled up in his enjoyment of this witticism.
Like a flash, Betty darted back to Hiram, thrilling with this good news. And at the same moment Grimes entered, holding a cablegram in his hand.
"Beg your pardon, sir," he said respectfully to Baxter, "I've just arrested your chauffeur, Anton Busch. He's a crook, Slippery Jake, sneak thief and confidence man, wanted by the police in half dozen cities. He's been working some deviltry here, sir. I've just found this cablegram on him. It's addressed to you."
"Thank you," said Hiram with a look of inexpressible sadness in his eyes. "It's come too late."
"I'm sorry, sir. I—I'll wait outside," and Grimes withdrew, his hard face softened by a look of deep pity for the shattered old warrior.
Baxter sat still, looking at the yellow envelope. "Too late!" he muttered. "Oh, if I'd only got this cablegram in time!"
"Guardy, I want to tell you something," Betty began, but Hiram paid no attention.
"Nothing matters now," he went on bitterly. "I mustn't say that. I'm happy about you two. Betty! Bob!" He joined their hands and held them strongly. "It's what I've always dreamed of, but—I wanted to leave ye well fixed and now——" The tears were coursing down his grizzled cheeks. "We're ruined—ruined."
"No, no! We're not ruined. You mustn't say that, Guardy." The girl dared not promise anything, for she did not know the result of her effort, but she pointed hopefully to the unopened cablegram. "Why don't you open this? Why don't you read it?"
He shook his head despairingly. "I know what it is. It's the notice that I've been sold out and—everything's gone. God! If I'd only known! If I could only have given the order to sell—even a few thousand shares."
With a listless movement Hiram ripped open the cable envelope and drew out the yellow sheet. Betty thought her heart would stop beating as she watched his face. Slowly the look of amazement came. He rubbed his eyes and read the message again. Then he sprang to his feet with a great cry.
"What! It ain't possible! Listen to this!" In his excitement, Hiram almost shouted the words written there before him. "'Congratulate you on your splendid nerve. Executed order at once. Sold fifty thousand shares at top of market and closed out with twenty points profit. Gramercy.' You hear that, Bob? Read it! Am I crazy or—— No, no! There's something wrong. I didn't show any splendid nerve. I didn't cable any order to sell fifty thousand shares. There's some mistake."
"There's no mistake," cried Betty. "I cabled the order to sell."
"You?" stared Bob.
"You?" gasped Hiram. "You cabled the order to sell fifty thousand shares of Independent Copper stock for my account? Fifty thousand shares?"
It was several moments before Betty could speak, and then, laughing and crying hysterically, she told what she and Lionel had done.
"I should say it was splendid nerve," said Bob. And folding his big, strong arms around her, "Betty, you darling!" he whispered.
She lay there happy in his arms and, looking up into his eyes with all the fondness of her soul, answered shyly and sweetly, "Bob, my love."
And Hiram Baxter, wiping away his tears of joy, muttered to himself (since no one else was paying any attention), "Holy cats! Is there anything a woman won't do?"
THE END