“Mr. Crane, what am I to do? My sister’s welfare—her very life depends on this money.”
“Do!” cried Enoch savagely. “Do! My dear lady, you are to leave this matter entirely in my hands. That’s what you are to do.”
She looked up at him breathlessly.
“Entirely!” The word rang out convincingly. “You leave Mr. Ebner Ford to me. I’ll attend to that individual.”
So far the thought of Sue had never entered his head; of what her stepfather’s ruin and disgrace would mean to her; his one dominating interest being absorbed in the pitiful facts before him, his sense of justice to Miss Ann obliterating everything else.
“It is safe to say he cannot have spent all of your money,” he went on vibrantly. “What he’s got left of it he’ll return to you. That I promise you.”
Miss Ann drew a sharp breath of relief.
“And the rest he’ll make good,” cried Enoch.
“But suppose,” ventured the little spinster timidly, “that he—he has not got it, Mr. Crane?”
“He’ll get it,” came Enoch’s sharp reply.