The girl turned to Angel wearily. Her outburst and the tension of the evening had exhausted her.
“Will you take me home, Mr. Angel?” she said.
She offered her hand to the lawyer, who had been an interested observer of the scene, and ignoring the two men, she turned to go.
Then Jimmy spoke.
“I do not attempt to excuse myself, Miss Kent,” he said evenly; “for my life and my acts I am unaccountable to man or woman. Your condemnation makes it neither easier nor harder to live my life. Your charity might have made a difference.”
He held out a detaining hand, for Kathleen had gathered up her skirts to move away.
“I have considered your question fairly. I am one of the men to whom your father owed his ruin, insomuch as I was one of Reale’s associates. I am not one of the men, insomuch as I used my every endeavor to dissuade your father from taking the risks he took.”
The humor of some recollection took hold of him, and a grim little smile came into his face.
“You say I betrayed your father,” he said in the same quiet tone. “As a fact I betrayed Reale. I was at trouble to explain to your father the secret of Reale’s electric roulette table; I demonstrated the futility of risking another farthing.” He laughed. “I have said I would not excuse myself, and here I am pleading like a small boy, ‘If you please, it wasn’t me,’” he said a little impatiently; and then he added abruptly, “I will not detain you,” and walked away.
He knew instinctively that she waited a moment hesitating for a reply, then he heard the rustle of her dress and knew she had gone. He stood looking upward to where the graven granite set marked the ashes of Reale, until her footsteps had died away and the lawyer’s voice broke the silence.