He snapped himself out of his chair and went across the room to her. He put his hands on her shoulders and bent his face to hers.
“You haven't any stocks, Mrs. Kilgour.”
“No,” she whispered, his eyes dominating her.
“What did you do with that money I loaned you?”
“I paid—a debt.”
“What debt? Answer! This thing must be cleared up—now!”
She began to weep.
“No more hysterics, Mrs. Kilgour. We are now down to cases. Something bad will happen if you don't confide in me.”
Then, cornered, with the impulse of weak natures to seek support from stronger—to appeal to a victor who cannot be eluded—she blurted the truth.
“They got to suspecting me when I was cashier for Dalton & Company. I heard they were going to put experts upon my books, Dicky. I didn't want to go to jail. I would have disgraced Kate. I knew you loved her and would not want her mother to be arrested. I had to have that money. I told you the story about the stocks. So I was saved from being disgraced.”