Ryder, who had gone to write something at his desk, strode over to where Mr. Bagley was standing and handed him a cheque.
“Here, sir, this settles everything to date. Good-day.”
“But I—I—” stammered the secretary helplessly.
“Good-day, sir.”
Ryder turned his back on him and conversed with, his son, while Mr. Bagley slowly, and as if regretfully, made his exit.
CHAPTER XV
It was now December and the Senate had been in session for over a week. Jefferson had not forgotten his promise, and one day, about two weeks after Mr. Bagley's spectacular dismissal from the Ryder residence, he had brought Shirley the two letters. She did not ask him how he got them, if he forced the drawer or procured the key. It sufficed for her that the precious letters—the absolute proof of her father's innocence—were at last in her possession. She at once sent them off by registered mail to Stott, who immediately acknowledged receipt and at the same time announced his departure for Washington that night. He promised to keep her constantly informed of what he was doing and how her father's case was going. It could, he thought, be only a matter of a few days now before the result of the proceedings would be known.
The approach of the crisis made Shirley exceedingly nervous, and it was only by the exercise of the greatest self-control that she did not betray the terrible anxiety she felt. The Ryder biography was nearly finished and her stay in Seventy-fourth Street would soon come to an end. She had a serious talk with Jefferson, who contrived to see a good deal of her, entirely unsuspected by his parents, for Mr. and Mrs. Ryder had no reason to believe that their son had any more than a mere bowing acquaintance with the clever young authoress. Now that Mr. Bagley was no longer there to spy upon their actions these clandestine interviews had been comparatively easy. Shirley brought to bear all the arguments she could think of to convince Jefferson of the hopelessness of their engagement. She insisted that she could never be his wife; circumstances over which they had no control made that dream impossible. It were better, she said, to part now rather than incur the risk of being unhappy later. But Jefferson refused to be convinced. He argued and pleaded and he even swore—strange, desperate words that Shirley had never heard before and which alarmed her not a little—and the discussion ended usually by a kiss which put Shirley completely hors de combat.