“It was not her fault.”
“Yes—ah, me!—it was. Her pride, beauty and ambition have brought her to ruin.”
“No! You may still help and save her.”
“I doubt it. But tell me all about it,” said poor John Legg, sinking back in his chair and covering his working features with his open palms.
Ran began and told the whole story of the connection of Gentleman Geff, Lamia Leegh, Jennie Campbell and himself, comprised within the last year.
“And in the room there,” he concluded, “gathered to meet and confound the great criminal are the witnesses of his crimes, the testifiers to his identity, and, more terrible than all, his victims, raised as it were from the dead against him. Among them Jennie Montgomery, the daughter of James Campbell, the girl who was nursed and brought up for sixteen years by your good wife, and who was married, then deserted, and finally stabbed by that felon. Among them, too, myself, Ran Hay, the friend who shared his cabin and his crust—nay, his heart and soul—with him, and yet whom he shot down from behind at midnight in the Black Woods of California. Among them, too, will be the wronged father of that unhappy girl——”
“No! no! No! no! Oh, Mr. Hay! I cannot be present at that scene! The sight of me would add to her suffering. No! When it is all over, and the man who has spoiled her life has been exposed, then take care of her for a few hours and afterward let her know of her father; that, however his heart may have been hardened against his vain, haughty, disdainful daughter, it is softened by his humbled, grieved and suffering child. Let her know that her father’s arms and her father’s home are ever opened to his daughter. But I cannot see her to-night, Mr. Hay. I am very grateful to you, sir. I understand you now. But please leave me and send Julia to me. She knows how to deal with me better than any one else.”
“I will do so at once. And, Mr. Legg, please use this house and the servants just as if they were entirely your own. Call for anything you may like, and do exactly as you choose,” said Ran as he took the old man’s hand, pressed it kindly, and left the library.
Then John Legg dropped his head upon his folded arms on the table and burst into tears.
Other arms were soon around him.