His eyes sought hers, and searched her very soul. She felt her flesh growing cold and her senses swooning. It had been a great effort to come up and face him at such a time, but her mission was urgent. She came to entreat an amnesty, to beg that he would not drag the miserable business of the checks into court by a dispute with the bank, and there was something horrible in his mirth.
“Hullo, forger!” he cried at last, and he watched the play of her face as the color came and went.
“What do you mean, father?”
“What I say. How does it feel to be a forger—eh? What is it like to be a thief? I never stole money myself—not even from my parents. D’ye think I believe your story? D’ye think I don’t know who altered my checks—who had the money—who told the dirty lie to blacken the memory of her dead 184 son? D’ye think I’m going to spare you—eh?”
“Father! Father! Have mercy—I was helpless!” she cried in terror, flinging herself on her knees beside his bed. “I couldn’t ruin both husband and daughter for the sake of a boy who was gone.”
“You couldn’t ruin yourself, you mean—but you could sully the memory of my heir with a foul charge—the worst of all that can be brought against a man and a gentleman.”
“It was you, father—you—you who denounced him.”
“Lies, lies! I did nothing of the sort. The bank people suspected him because he was a man, because they didn’t think that any child of mine could rob me of seven thousand dollars—seven thousand dollars! Think of it, madam—seven thousand dollars! D’ye know how many nickels there are in seven thousand dollars? Why, I could send you to Sing-Sing for years, if I chose to lift my finger.”
“But you won’t father—you won’t! You’ll have mercy. You’ll spare us. If you knew what I have suffered, you’d be sorry for me.”
“Oh, I can guess what you have suffered. And you’re going to suffer a good deal more yet. Don’t tell me you’ve come up here to get more money—not more?”