"I don't want it to be thought," said he "that I was directly responsible for Miss Vale's adventure of last night—or for any of the others, for the matter of that. If I had known at the time that she proposed visiting Locke's, or Hume's, either upon the night of the murder, or last night, I would have prevented it."
Ashton-Kirk nodded kindly; the young man's position evidently appealed to him. But Pendleton sat rather stiffly in his chair and his expression never changed.
"I will now come into possession of whatever value there is in my father's invention," went on Morris, "and added to that, it turns out that the—the other thing, of which I stood so much in fear, has turned out favorably. But," in a disheartened sort of way, "I don't care much, now that my engagement with Miss Vale is broken."
"Broken!" exclaimed Pendleton.
"I saw her this morning," said Morris. "During the past week," he continued, "it gradually came to me that I was not the sort of man to make her a fitting husband. I hid like a squirrel while she faced the dangers that should have been mine. I knew that she realized the situation as well as I, and I did what I could by making it easy for her."
He paused at the door.
"If there is anything that I can do, or say in the final settlement of this case," he added, to Ashton-Kirk, "I will gladly place myself at your services, sir. Good-bye."