He leaned over the table and fastened the minister’s eyes with his own. “Had you the same love of conscience and truth at Radley?”
A whiteness passed over the flabby face, and the beady eyes took on a glazed look. Fight suddenly died out of them.
“You went on a missionary tour on the Ottawa River. At Radley you toiled and rested from your toil—and feasted. The girl had no father or brother, but her uncle was a railway-man. He heard where you were, and he hired with my company to come out here as a foreman. He came to drop on you. The day after he came he had a bad accident. I went to see him. He told me all; his nerves were unstrung, you observe. He meant to ruin you, as you ruined the girl. He had proofs enough. The girl herself is in Winnipeg. Well, I know life, and I know man and man’s follies and temptations. I thought it a pity that a career and a life like yours should be ruined—”
A groan broke from the twitching lips before him, and a heavy sweat stood out on the round, rolling forehead.
“If the man spoke, I knew it would be all up with you, for the world is very hard on men of God who fall. I’ve seen men ruined before this, because of an hour’s passion and folly. I said to myself that you were only human, and that maybe you had paid heavy in remorse and fear. Then there was the honour of the town of Lebanon. I couldn’t let the thing take its course. I got the doctor to tell the man that he must go for special treatment to a hospital in Montreal, and I—well, I bought him off on his promising to keep his mouth shut. He was a bit stiff in terms, because he said the girl needed the money. The child died, luckily for you. Anyhow I bought him off, and he went. That was a year ago. I’ve got all the proofs in my pocket, even to the three silly letters you wrote her when your senses were stronger than your judgment. I was going to see you about them to-day.”
He took from his pocket a small packet, and held them before the other’s face. “Have a good look at your own handwriting, and see if you recognize it,” Ingolby continued.
But the glazed, shocked eyes did not see. Reuben Tripple had passed the several stages of horror during Ingolby’s merciless arraignment, and he had nearly collapsed before he heard the end of the matter. When he knew that Ingolby had saved him, his strength gave way, and he trembled violently. Ingolby looked round and saw a jug of water. Pouring out a glassful, he thrust it into the fat, wrinkled fingers.
“Drink and pull yourself together,” he said sternly. The shaken figure straightened itself, and the water was gulped down. “I thank you,” he said in a husky voice.
“You see I treated you fairly, and that you’ve been a fool?” Ingolby asked with no lessened determination.
“I have tried to atone, and—”