“I took it from the bank”—and the old man's voice, belying his grimly resolute look, sank to a whisper—“because I had it on deposit there. It was idle.”
“Huh?” grunted Tommy.
“It was drawing no interest, and I could think of no better investment than to devote it to my only son's happiness,” finished Mr. Leigh, quietly.
“What are you saying, father?” cried Tommy, And then his sudden hope burst into pieces and vanished. His father was insane; his words furnished irrefutable proof. Tommy realized he must do nothing in a hurry. He must telephone to Thompson.
“I am saying that I had no better use for the money, and so I bought the Tecumseh stock for you. A great deal of money has been made in automobile manufacturing, and all my advices were that your friend Thompson was a man of high character and undoubted business ability.”
Tommy's mind was in a daze. This came from trying to think of too many things too quickly, and at the same time trying not to let an unwarranted sense of relief fill his soul, as it was violently seeking to do. He shook his head; and then he blinked his eyes again and again and stared at his father, gradually realizing that his father's eyes were not gleaming insanely. Indeed, he now perceived that they were looking at him, curiously proud and most curiously diffident.
“I don't understand—” began Tommy, with an impatient shake of the head.
“And you never will, my son,” interrupted Mr. Leigh, gently. “I pray God you never will!”
The words were so incomprehensible that Tommy asked, excitedly:
“Father, won't you please tell me about the money? Was it yours or the bank's; and what—”