“I—I have something beside the money you saw me counting,” she told him, bluntly.
“And Willets Starkweather doesn’t know it?”
“He has never asked me if I were in funds.”
“I bet you!” cackled Grimes, at last giving way to a spasm of mirth which, Helen thought, was not nice to look upon. “And how does he fancy having you in his family?”
“He does not like it. Neither do his daughters. And one of their reasons is because people will ask questions about Prince Morrell’s daughter. They are afraid their friends will bring up father’s old trouble,” continued Helen, her voice quivering. “So that is why, Mr. Grime’s, I am determined to know the truth about it.”
“The truth? What do you mean?” snarled Grimes, suddenly starting out of his chair.
“Why, sir,” said Helen, amazed, “dad told me all about it when he was dying. All he knew. But he said by this time surely the truth of the matter must have come to light. I want to clear his name——”
“How are you going to do that?” demanded Mr. Grimes.
“I hope you will help me—if you can, sir,” she said, pleadingly.
“How can I help more now than I could at the time he was charged with the crime?”