"It's grand larceny," said the man simply.
"Lin, Lin, come on!" called Caroline.
"You've got the pin, and I'll tear the picture up," said the man. "I've got it all planned, o' course—I give the name of Barker. And—and if Jim ever says anything to you or any of his friends about me being mean about the thousand, when I'd promised it, just kind of give a hint, will you, that things may have happened so's I couldn't? I hope he'll think I died. I wish he was through Yale, though. The thousand won't make any difference with graduatin', will it?"
Lindsay swallowed hard; his nerves were strained to snapping.
"Good God, no!" he shouted. He stepped to the French window, opened it, and threw the revolver over the sill.
"Get out!" he said briefly, turning to the man, "get out of my sight! If Jim ever receives another penny from you, I'll tell him all I know."
The man swayed towards the chair. "Do you mean it?" he gasped, "honest?"
He began to sob and choke a little, and turning half bent over the chair, hunted with his hand for his hat.
"Get out!" Lindsay repeated violently, looking persistently sidewise.
The man leaned over and fumbled for the picture on the floor, found it and straightened himself.