“It is nothing!” said Paul Veniza, abashed.
“Perhaps not!” said John Bruce. “But”—he turned abruptly away, his lips tight—“it just made me think for a minute. In the life I've led men like you are rare.”
“We were speaking of Doctor Crang,” said Paul Veniza a little awkwardly. “If you know that Doctor Crang is the thief, then that is the way out of our trouble. Instead of marrying Claire, he will be sent to prison.”
John Bruce shook his head.
“You said yourself I was unconscious at the time. You certainly must have found me that way, and Crang would make you testify that for days I had been raving in delirium. I do not think you could convict him on my testimony.”
“But even so,” said Paul Veniza, “there is Claire. If she knew that Crang was a criminal, she——”
“She does know,” said John Bruce tersely.
“Claire knows!” ejaculated Paul Veniza in surprise. “You—you told her, then?”
“No,” John Bruce answered. “I said to her: 'Suppose I were to tell you that the man is a criminal?' She answered: 'He is a criminal.' I said then: 'Suppose he were sent to jail—to serve a sentence?' She answered: 'I would marry him when he came out.'”
“My God!” mumbled the old cabman miserably.