“Why, it is sealed and addressed to me!” she cried, in surprise. “The package hasn’t even been opened.”
“I never said it had,” said the man in the overcoat, removing his hat. “I didn’t want to read the stuff, Patty.”
The package fell to the floor amid the fluttering bills. Patricia’s knees trembled and she would have fallen had not a pair of strong arms gone about her and held her up.
“It’s only Mort, Patty,” said a voice. “Don’t you understand? It’s all been a deception and mistake. There isn’t any John Doe. It’s only your husband——”
“Oh, how could you, Mort?” sobbed Patricia. “How could you be so hard—so—so cruel?”
Crabb’s answer was to push the veil back from his wife’s face and kiss away her tears. She did not resist now and sank against him with a restful sigh that told him more than any words could do the full measure of her penitence. But in a moment she started up pale and wide-eyed.
“But this office—these people—do they know——”
“Bless you, no,” laughed Crabb. “Fairman’s a sort of business associate of mine. I only borrowed his private office for an hour or so. He thinks it is a practical joke. It was—is—a cruel one——”
“But he’ll guess——”
“Oh, no, he won’t,” laughed Crabb.