Meanwhile Jerry Macy still pursued her lonely way. Immediately after Mignon’s note to the club had been accepted as a resignation, Muriel Harding boldly accosted Jerry to inform her of it. “Now stop being a goose, Jerry, and come back to the club,” had been her somewhat tactless invitation.
Although long since convinced of her goose-like qualities, Jerry was not ready to hear of them from others. She gruffly declined Muriel’s invitation with, “I’ll wait until I’m good and ready before I come back, if ever I do.” A note from Marjorie would undoubtedly have met with a more amiable response. Marjorie longed to write it, yet a certain stubborn pride of her own stayed her hand. She wished Jerry to return to the Lookouts of her own volition. Due also to the fact that Mr. La Salle was still out of town, Marjorie had had no opportunity to seek release from her promise.
On seeking Jerry, Muriel had briefly acquainted her with the details of the occurrence that had led to an acceptance of Mignon’s note as a resignation by the Lookouts. Jerry knew nothing, however, of what had transpired later until, by a curious freak of chance, she came into possession of the news. It came about through Muriel Harding’s rash promise to Mr. Wendell that the funds of the Lookouts would be redeposited in his bank within two or three days. Unable to keep her word, she had gained the united consent of the club to offer him a full explanation of the matter. Privately disapproving of Mignon’s part in the affair he had unburdened himself of his views to Mr. Macy, an important stockholder in the bank. Knowing the latter’s daughter to be president of the club he had briefly suggested to her father a course of action that might prove efficacious. Ignorant of the fact that Jerry had quarreled with the Lookouts, Mr. Macy mentioned to her Mr. Wendell’s practical suggestion.
Betraying no outward sign of the astonishment which her father’s revelation afforded her, Jerry accepted the advice with the solemnity of an owl, asked a few astute questions and calmly betook herself one fine afternoon in early May to the office of a rising Sanford lawyer, who happened to be a first cousin of hers. When, after an earnest consultation with the young man, she took her leave, her broadly-smiling features registered the signal success of her call.
On the evening of the same day, an alert, self-possessed young man rang the La Salles’ doorbell and politely inquired for Mr. La Salle. Informed of his absence he expressed a further wish to see “Miss La Salle,” presented a calling card and was ushered into the drawing room. A single glance at the sinister bit of pasteboard and Mignon began to quake inwardly. Knowing the professional reputation of her caller she could draw but one ominous conclusion. To defy the Lookouts was one thing; to defy the Law another. Undoubtedly he had been engaged by the club to force her to deliver up the cachéd money. Perhaps she would be arrested and tried in court for her crime!
Her sharp face very pale, knees trembling, she entered the drawing room, feeling like a criminal on the way to punishment. Greatly to her surprise her caller greeted her with courteous impersonality. She did not share, however, his suave expression of regret at her father’s absence. To her it was an undisguised blessing.
Her fears diminished a trifle as he proceeded to engage her in pleasant conversation which had no bearing on the, to her, dangerous subject. Deciding that he had merely dropped in to pay her father a social call, Mignon recovered her courage and promptly set out to make herself agreeable. Very tactfully he directed the discourse toward himself and his profession. He related several incidents of peculiar cases, carefully avoiding all mention of names, that had come under his jurisdiction. He ended his law reminiscences with the tale of a young man who, having quarreled with his mother, rifled a safe in his mother’s room and hid the contents out of pure spite, thus hoping to bring her to his own terms. Contrary to all expectations his mother promptly had him arrested for burglary, despite his frantic assurances that he had cherished no thought of not returning the money, but had hidden it merely for revenge.
“And—was—he—sent to prison?” Mignon’s tones were decidedly shaky.
“No. His mother did not carry it further. She decided that he had learned a lesson and withdrew the charge. It was a very severe lesson, however. He did not relish the idea of being regarded by the public as a thief. His mother felt the publicity to be necessary, I suppose. He had been a sore trial to her. It must have hurt her pride. Still, you know, desperate diseases require desperate remedies.”
Shortly after delivering this Parthian shot, the disturbing advocate of the law smilingly took his departure, leaving a thoroughly miserable and frightened girl to digest his remarks at her leisure. It may be said that the tragic tale of the too-vengeful young man was absolutely true. It had been carefully culled from among records in the young lawyer’s possession as bearing directly upon Mignon’s case.