Jack did not answer. His mind was too intent on finding some thread which would unravel the tangle.
“Does anybody else know of this, Corinne?” he asked at last in a low-pitched voice.
“Nobody.”
“Nobody must,” he exclaimed firmly. Then he added gently—“Why did you tell me?”
“He asked me to. It would all have come out in the end, and he didn't want you to see McGowan and not know the truth. Keep still—some one is knocking,” she whispered, her fingers pressed to her lips in her fright. “I know it is McGowan, Jack. Shall I see him, or will you?”
“I will—you stay here.”
Jack lifted himself erect and braced back his shoulders. He intended to be polite to McGowan, but he also intended to be firm. He also intended to refuse him any information or promise of any kind until the regular monthly meeting of the Church Board which would occur on Monday. This would give him time to act, and perhaps to save the situation, desperate as it looked.
With this in his mind he turned the key and threw wide the door. It was the doctor who stood outside. He seemed to be laboring under some excitement.
“I heard you were here, Mr. Breen—come upstairs.”
Jacked obeyed mechanically. Garry had evidently heard of his being downstairs and had some instructions to give, or some further confession to make. He would save him now from that humiliation; he would get his arms around him, as Corinne had done, and tell him he was still his friend and what he yet intended to do to pull him through, and that nothing which he had done had wrecked his affection for him.