Hetty promised, and went her way homeward. She was sorely puzzled, but on the whole she felt wonderfully bright and happy. The mystery was still as dark as ever, but she had faith in Lawrence. But there was much to be done before one good man's name was cleared.
[CHAPTER XIX.]
STOLEN!
Not till now did Gordon Bruce fully appreciate the blow that a cruel fate had dealt him. At first he had been confused and bewildered, and a little disposed to doubt the evidence of his senses. There was a vague hope that it was a trick, a mistake that a moment would rectify.
He had not been arrested yet; his own voluntary evidence, backed up so strangely by the evidence of Hetty and the reporter, had staved that off for the present. But really, things were almost as bad. He had his own friends, of course, who were prepared to back him up through thick and thin, but there were others who passed him with a cold bow, or cut him altogether. He had called at one or two houses professionally, where he had been informed that his services would no longer be required. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but Bruce met it bravely. Even Hetty did not quite guess what he was suffering.
He was only too glad of any excuse to meet her now. Anything to get away from himself and his own disturbed thoughts. And he had not so very much faith in Lawrence, despite the latter's pretty gift of prophecy. The artistic temperament is always a sanguine one.
Hetty was waiting for him now in Lawrence's study. She looked bright and cheerful so that Bruce kissed her passionately. It would be hard if he could not live up to her courage and devotion.
"My poor boy," she whispered. "My poor boy! But it is not going to last. The truth is bound to come out before long. And then it will be like one of those queer bank panics--only weather the storm, and you will be more sought after than ever."
Bruce forced a smile to his lips.