“Yes,” Prescott answered gravely; “I have to clear myself. If there were no other reason than the one you have given, it would have to be done. It’s going to be a tough proposition, but I’ll get about it very soon.”
“You know that I wish you all success,” she told him softly.
Then she held out her hand and turned away. When she had gone Prescott went on with his work and after buckling the last strap he found that he had forgotten a parcel Mrs. Leslie had asked him to deliver. Hurrying back to the house for it, he met Gertrude Jernyngham in the hall and she stopped where the light fell on her, instead of avoiding him as he had expected. There was suspicion in her eyes.
“I see you agree with your father,” he said boldly.
“Yes,” she replied in a scornful tone. “You can pose rather cleverly—you tricked me into trusting you, but your ability is limited, after all. When the strain comes, you break down. Could anything have been feebler than the defense you made?”
“It was pretty lame, but every word was true.”
“Oh,” she cried with disgust and impatience, “one wouldn’t expect you to say it was false! You don’t seem to have anything more convincing to add.”
“I’m going to add nothing. It isn’t very long since you were willing to take my word.”
“I’m afraid I was easily deceived,” Gertrude said bitterly. “I didn’t know you had twice passed yourself off as my brother, and you can’t complain if we see an obvious motive for your doing so the second time.”
“You mean that I stole the price of Cyril’s land?” Prescott asked sternly.