When he was gone, old Dan came and grasped Havener by the hand.
"It was' kind of you—kind of you!" burst from the lips of the old actor. "I thought—I thought——"
"I know what you thought," said Havener. "You are Cassie's father. For her sake I shielded you, but if you ever lift your hand to her again, I'll——"
"Ross, Ross," cried the girl, "stop! Don't threaten him! He is my father!"
"Oh, my little sunshine—my poor child!" sobbed old Dan, falling on his knees at the bedside. "Can you forgive me? Can you forgive your miserable old father?"
"There, there, pop!" she said, reaching out her thin hand and putting it on his gray hair. "Don't you know I forgive you? It wasn't you; it was the whisky."
"And he gave it to me—he told me where Merriwell had hid it!" said the old actor, glad to shift the responsibility.
"He did it to hurt Merriwell," said Havener, grimly; "but that makes him none the less responsible."
Lillian Bird came in and sat beside the bed, and, as soon as possible, Havener made an excuse to go out. Five minutes later Frank found the stage manager in his room.