Volume Two—Chapter Two.
Harry Looks the Fact in the Face.
Harry Vine checked his headlong pace as soon as he was out of the lane, and walked swiftly along by the harbour till he reached the sea. Here, in the shelter of a rock, he stooped down and lit a cigar, before throwing himself on a patch of shingle, and holding his temples with his hands, as he tried to quell the tumult in his brain and to think calmly.
But it was in vain. He felt half mad, and as if the best way out of his difficulty was to go and leap into the sea.
“Curse Pradelle!” he groaned. “I wish I had never seen him—coward, thief, cheat! Oh, what am I talking about? Why didn’t I face it, and tell Van Heldre the honest truth? I was innocent. No, no: I was as bad as Pradelle, and he shall disgorge. Every penny shall go back. If he says no, come what may, I’ll out with the whole truth.”
“I couldn’t help it,” he groaned after a pause. “I’d give anything to have frankly told the truth.”
He walked quickly home, and assuming a calmness he did not feel, entered the drawing-room, where Louise was seated reading.
“Your company gone?” he said roughly.
“Yes, dear. Papa has walked home with Madelaine.”
Harry turned sharply round, for he mentally pictured in one agonising thought the scene at Van Heldre’s home.