Part 23 (2/2)

”You have my word, Humphrey,” said the Squire simply.

Humphrey wrung his hands together nervously. ”Oh, it's a miserable story,” he said. ”Clark accuses Susan of stealing that necklace from Brummels.”

”What!” exclaimed the Squire, horrified.

”She's prepared to swear to it, and says she will go and lay information, unless we do what they want--help Gotch to settle in Canada.”

The Squire sprang from his seat and strode the length of the room. His face was terrific as he turned and stood before Humphrey. ”But that's the most scandalous case of blackmail I ever heard of,” he said. ”You mean to say you are prepared to give in to that! And expect me to help you! You ought to be ashamed of asking such a thing, Humphrey. And to extract a promise from me to keep _that_ to myself! What can you be thinking of? I've not much difficulty in advising you if that's the sort of trouble you're in. Send for a policeman, and have the woman locked up at once. The brazen insolence of it! Let the whole world know of it, if they want to, I say. Your honour can't stand much if _that_ sort of mud is going to stain it. It's your positive duty. I can't think what you can have been thinking of not to do it at once.

To give in to the woman! Why, it's shameful, Humphrey! Disgrace!

That's where the disgrace is.”

Humphrey had sat silent under this exordium, his head bent and his eyes on the ground. He said no word when his father had finished.

A half-frightened look came over the Squire's face. ”You've allowed this woman to impose upon you,” he said in a quieter voice. ”You've lost your head, my boy. Take hold of yourself, and fling the lie back in her face. _Punish_ her for it.”

There was another pause before Humphrey said, raising his head, but not his eyes: ”It isn't a lie. It's the truth. Oh, my G.o.d!”

His frame was shaken by a great sob. He leant forward and buried his face in his hands.

The Squire sat down heavily in his chair. He picked up a paper-knife from the writing-table and balanced it in his hand. For a moment his face was devoid of all expression. Then he turned round to his son and said in a firm voice: ”You say Susan did steal them? Are you sure of that? Joan as good as saw that Mrs. Amberley take them. Yes, and it was proved that she sold them, at her trial! Aren't you allowing this woman to bluff you, Humphrey?”

His voice had taken a note of confidence. Humphrey sat up, his face white and hard.

”Mrs. Amberley's selling pearls was a coincidence--unlucky for her,” he said. ”We know where she got them from. The story they wouldn't listen to was true.”

”But Joan!--seeing her at the very cupboard itself!”

”She may have _wanted_ to steal them. She did steal the diamond star.”

The Squire drooped. ”Still, it may be bluff,” he said weakly. ”How did Clark know of it?”

”Oh, don't turn the knife round, father,” said Humphrey. ”It isn't Clark; it's Susan. She told me herself.”

”She told you she was a thief!” The Squire's voice had changed, and was harder.

”Yes. It's a wretched story. Don't make it harder for me to tell.”

The control in which he had held himself, coming down in the train, walking from the station with Joan, and first addressing his father, was gone. He spoke as if he were broken, but in a hard, monotonous voice.

The Squire's face softened. ”Go on, my boy,” he said. ”Tell me everything. I'll help you if I can.”

”I taxed her with it. She's frightened to death. I could only get at it by degrees; and there are some things I don't understand now. I shall clear them up when she's better. She's ill now, and I don't wonder at it.”

”Where is she?”

”With her mother. _She_ doesn't know anything. She thinks we've had a row.”

”Well, tell me.”

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