Part 32 (2/2)
Meantime the packages of money were found and in order.
”Have you special directions, sir, in regard to the prisoner?”
questioned the policeman.
Mr. Stephens broke away from Theodore's restraining arm and went toward Winters.
”My poor, poor boy,” he said, compa.s.sionately, ”how _could_ you do it?”
Winters' eyes expressed nothing but malignancy as he muttered between shut teeth:
”Because I _hate_ you, and that upstart who hoodwinks you.”
Theodore came forward with quiet dignity.
”Mr. Stephens,” he said, laying a gently detaining hand on the gentleman's arm, ”let me manage the rest of the business for you, you are excited and weary. Secure the man in safe and comfortable quarters for the night,” he added, turning to the policeman, ”and you will hear from Mr. Stephens in the morning.”
Five minutes more and Theodore and Mr. Stephens were left alone in the library.
”No explanations to-night,” said Theodore, with an attempt at playfulness, as the other turned toward him with eager questioning eyes.
”I withdraw my prohibition, sir, as regards the papers, and will permit you to retire at once.”
”One word, Theodore, about the point that troubles me the most What shall we do with the poor young man?”
Theodore's face darkened.
”The very utmost that the law allows,” he said, sternly. ”He deserves it all. If you desire my advice on that point I should say--”
Mr. Stephens interrupted him, laying a quiet hand on his arm and speaking gently:
”My boy, suppose you and I kneel down here and pray for him?”
All the heat and anger died out of Theodore's face. He remembered the midnight interview which took place years before in that very room, when Mr. Stephens was the judge and he himself the culprit. He remembered that at that time Mr. Stephens had knelt down and prayed for _him_.
Reverently now he knelt beside the n.o.ble-hearted man, and heard him pour out his soul in prayer for the ”poor boy” who had tried so hard to injure him. When they arose he turned quiet smiling eyes on his young friend as he said:
”My dear boy, can you advise me now?”
”You do not need advice, sir,” said Theodore, speaking somewhat huskily and with a reverent touch in his voice. ”Follow the dictates of your own n.o.ble soul in this as in everything, and you will be sure to do the best thing.”
It was two o'clock when Theodore applied his own night-key and entered his front door. The gas was still lighted in the back parlor, and thither he went. It was not the back parlor that belonged to the little cottage house near the depot; not the same house at all, but one larger and finer, and on a handsomer street. The back parlor was nicely, even luxuriously, furnished with that dainty mixture of elegance and home comfort which betokens a refined and cultivated taste. Winny had grown into a tall young lady with coils of smooth brown hair in place of the crisp locks of her childhood. Her crimson dress set off her clear dark complexion to advantage. The round table was drawn directly under the gaslight, and she sat before it surrounded by many beautiful books and writing material. She glanced up at Theodore's entrance, and he addressed her in grave business-like tones:
”Winny, do you know it is two o'clock? You should not study so late at night under any circ.u.mstances.”
”You should not perambulate the streets until morning, and then you would have no knowledge of my misdemeanors,” answered Winny in exactly the same tone, and added: ”What poor drunken wretch have you and Jim in train to-night?”
”Is Jim here?” said Theodore, eagerly.
”Yes, and has been for an hour. He stumbled up stairs with a poor victim who was unable to walk, and domiciled him in your room. Remarkable company you seem to keep, Mr. Mallery. Who is the creature?”
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