Part 54 (2/2)
He held out his hand, and she sprang towards him. ”Cicely,” said he, not without some tokens of emotion in his voice, ”it is only right that I should inform you that we were all laboring under a mistake, in charging Mr. Bertram Sylvester with the words that were uttered in the Dey Street coffee-house two years ago. Mr. Sylvester has amply convinced me that his nephew neither was, nor could have been present there at that time.
It must have been some other man, of similar personality.”
”Oh thank you, thank you!” Cicely's look seemed to say to Mr. Sylvester.
”And he is quite freed from reproach?” she asked, with a smiling glance into her father's face.
A hesitancy in Mr. Stuyvesant's manner, struck with a chill upon more than one heart in that room.
”Yes,” he admitted at last; ”the mere fact that a mysterious robbery has been committed upon certain effects in the bank of which he is cas.h.i.+er, is not sufficient to awaken distrust as to his integrity, but--”
At that moment the door-bell rung.
”Your father would say,” cried Mr. Sylvester, taking advantage of the momentary break, to come to the relief of his host, ”that my nephew is too much of a gentleman to desire to press any claim he may imagine himself as possessing over you, while even the possibility of a shadow rests upon his name.”
”The man who stole the bonds will be found,” said Cicely.
And as if in echo to her words the parlor door opened, and a messenger from the bank stepped briskly up to Mr. Stuyvesant.
”A note from Mr. Folger,” said he, with a quick glance at Mr. Sylvester.
Mr. Stuyvesant took the paper handed him, read it hastily through, and looked up with an air of some bewilderment.
”I can hardly believe it possible,” cried he, ”but Hopgood has absconded.”
”Hopgood absconded?”
”Yes; is not that the talk at the bank?” inquired Mr. Stuyvesant, turning to the messenger.
”Yes sir. He has not been seen since yesterday afternoon when he left before the bank was closed for the night. His wife says she thinks he meant to run away, for before going, he came into the room where she was, kissed her and then kissed the child; besides it seems that he took with him some of his clothes.”
”Humph! and I had as much confidence in that man--”
”As I have now,” came from Mr. Sylvester as the door closed upon the messenger. ”If Hopgood has run away, it was from some generous but mistaken idea of sacrificing himself to the safety of another whom he may possibly believe guilty.”
”No,” rejoined Mr. Stuyvesant, ”for here is a note from him that refutes that supposition. It is addressed to me and runs thus:
”DEAR SIR.--I beg your pardon and that of Mr. Sylvester for leaving my duties in this abrupt manner. But I have betrayed my trust and am no longer worthy of confidence. I am a wretched man and find it impossible to face those who have believed in my honesty and discretion. If I can bring the money back, you shall see me again, but if not, be kind to my wife and little one, for the sake of the three years when I served the bank faithfully.
”JOHN HOPGOOD.”
”I don't understand it,” cried Mr. Sylvester, ”that looks--”
”As if he knew where the money was.”
”I begin to hope,” breathed Cicely.
Her father turned and surveyed her. ”This puts a new aspect on matters,”
said he.
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