Part 42 (1/2)

John listened to her with ever increasing amazement, and when she had concluded, his cold, austere demeanor had perceptibly softened. Yet Thorpe breathed hard.

”You vilified Corway's character and I have heard recently of his--of her mad infatuation for him and of his frequent visits to our home while I was away in China.”

”The source of your information was a lie. You received it gratuitously from Beauchamp, did you not?”

”I have not mentioned the source of my information. Why do you think he was my informant?”

”Because he hated Corway.”

”And you conspired with him to ruin my home,” quickly interrupted Thorpe, and again coldly turned from her.

”You shall hear me!” and Virginia insistently gripped his coat sleeve and turned him toward her. ”I have sought you too long to explain this unhappy affair, and now that I have found you, you must hear me out.”

Smothering his impatience, Thorpe said: ”Well!”

”I loved Corway, oh, so fondly!--but, alas, too well, and I allowed myself to cherish the belief that in his endearing manifestations he reciprocated my love. But on my premature return from the farm, I unexpectedly heard him declare his pa.s.sion for Hazel. Then an all absorbing desire for revenge possessed me.

”I resolved to break their engagement and first endeavor to estrange him--from your friends.h.i.+p. To accomplish that end I traduced his character and created a suspicion that his attention to Hazel was insincere and mercenary, expecting that after Corway was denied access to your home, I could smooth over the unpleasantness between you and Hazel and eventually annul his betrothal to her. But your informant juggled the names, made Constance the subject of Corway's affection instead of Hazel, and led you to believe the ring was a love token from her to him.”

”He insisted and repeated that Constance was the guilty one and not Hazel,” dubiously commented Thorpe.

”I understand now, it was out of revenge,” she laconically replied.

”Revenge! What wrong have I done Lord Beauchamp?” questioned Thorpe, amazed at Virginia's disclosures.

”You will understand when I disclose, as I have recently learned that he is Philip Rutley, masquerading as Lord Beauchamp.”

”G.o.d of our fathers!” exclaimed Thorpe, clapping his hand to his white forehead, to still the pain of sudden doubt of his wife's inconstancy, that had seized him.

”What punishment is this inflicted on me?”

Then turning to Virginia with fierce light in his eyes, he sprang at her. In one bound he clutched her by the wrist, glared in her eyes, and said:

”And you, my only sister, have known all this and permitted him to wreak his vengeance upon my innocent wife, who never bore him malice, or did him wrong by thought, word or deed.”

”I did not think that harm would fall on Constance.” Yet even before she had finished speaking, a change came over Thorpe, and his grip on her wrist loosened. A victim of doubt and suspicion, his moods were as changing and variable as the coloring of a chameleon. Apparently he was not yet satisfied of the complete innocence of his wife or of the truthfulness of his sister, for he said, in a voice saddened by reflection: ”That does not explain your connection with the abduction of Dorothy.”

”I have them with me,” she muttered, appreciating the importance of clearing herself. ”Yes, they are here,” and she hastily produced from her corsage an envelope having had the foresight to preserve them as most precious testimony in case of need.

The moment had come and found her prepared. Handing him the two notes, with a winsome expression of thankfulness, she said:

”Read them, John, this one first, and you will know why I was in the cabin.”

She had handed to him the two notes received from George Golda, though in reality they had been penned by his colleague, Rutley. The first note asked for a meeting in the City park. The second demanded the amount of ransom that night on penalty of removal of Dorothy.

”The time was urgent in the extreme,” she continued. ”Unable to secure the amount of ransom demanded, I resolved to go alone to the cabin, determined to rescue Dorothy.”

”You entered then.”

”But you were not alone; Constance was with you,” he corrected.

”When I told her my purpose, she pleaded so hard. Oh, so hard to go with me, that I could not deny her. I have told you all.”