And now, in spite of his burns, Deering spread out his plans once more, and compared them for a long time in silence, while Vane and the doctor looked on.
“Yes,” he said at last, “there can be no mistake. Vane is right. This speck was taken by the man who traced it for a stop-cock, and though this pipe shows so plainly here in the plan, in the engine itself it is right below here, and out of sight. You may say that I ought to have seen such a trifling thing myself; but I did not, for the simple reason that I knew every bit of mechanism by heart that ought to be there; but of this I had no knowledge whatever. Vane, my lad, you’ve added I don’t know how many years to my life, and you’ll never do a better day’s work as long as you live. I came down here to-day a broken and a wretched man, but I felt that, painful as it would be, I must come and show my old friend that I was not the scoundrel he believed.”
The doctor uttered a sound like a low growl, and just then Aunt Hannah came back looking depressed, weary, and only half-convinced, to hear Deering’s words.
“There is not a doubt about it now, Mrs Lee,” he cried, joyfully. “Vane has saved your little fortune.”
“And his inheritance,” said the doctor, proudly.
“No,” cried Deering, clapping Vane on the shoulder, “he wants no inheritance, but the good education and training you have given him. Speak out, my lad, you mean to carve your own way through life?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” cried Vane; “you almost take my breath away. I only found out that little mistake in your plans.”
“And that was the hole through which your uncle’s fortune was running out. Now, then, answer my question, boy. You mean to fight your own way in life?”
“Don’t call it fighting,” said Vane, raising one throbbing hand. “I’ve had fighting enough to last me for years.”
“Well, then, carve your way, boy?”