"No," said Bertha; "it was not you who were to blame. I was more blind than you—I knew him better than—than any one else."
"A short time ago," said the professor, "I received a letter from an old friend who knows a great deal of my business affairs. He is a business man, and I have been glad to entrust him with the management of various investments. In this manner he knew something of the investment of the money which was yours. He knew more of Richard's methods than Richard was aware of. He had heard rumors of the Westoria land scheme, and had accidentally, in the transaction of his business, made some discoveries. He asked me if I knew the extent to which your fortune had been speculated with. Knowing a few facts, he was able to guess at others"—
Bertha lifted her face from her hands.
"My money!" she exclaimed. "My fortune!"
"He had speculated with it at various times, sometimes gaining, sometimes losing; the Westoria affair seems to have dazzled him—and he invested largely"—
Bertha rose from her chair.
"It was Philip Tredennis' money he invested," she said. "Philip Tredennis"—
"It was not Philip's money," the professor answered; "that I have discovered. But it was Philip's generosity which would have made it appear so. In this letter—written just before he sailed—Richard has admitted the truth to me—finding what proof I had against him."
Bertha lifted her hands and let them fall at her sides.