The lawyer bowed.
“In that case,” said he, somewhat embarrassed, “perhaps you will permit us now to withdraw.”
The banker sat silent a moment, his stern face pallid and thoughtful. Then he turned to Phil.
“Mr. Daring,” he said, “I owe to you and to your brave sister my thanks for your discretion and consideration of me in the conduct of this unfortunate affair. Eric owes you a still greater debt. You have behaved as a man, sir; I wish to God you had been my son instead of that cowering criminal seated before me. Will you add a little to my obligation—will you do me another favor?”
“If I may, sir,” said Phil, flushed and miserable despite this praise.
“Tell me what punishment to inflict upon this—thief.”
Phil straightened up and looked squarely into the banker’s eyes. He had longed for this question; the opportunity was now his.
“Sir,” he replied, “I know Eric; I have known him for years. His fault lay in his extravagant tastes, which forced him into debt because his father would not give him as much money as he thought he needed. The debts drove him to crime, and for his crime he has already suffered such punishment as all your proposed severity could not inflict upon him. I know Eric—tender-hearted, generous and kind—not bad, sir, in spite of this offense he was so weak as to commit. If you will forgive him, Mr. Spaythe, if you will love him and take him to your heart again, I promise that never in the future will you have cause to regret it. Eric will be honest and true from this day forward. But if, on the other hand, you now cast him off, you will ruin his life and your own; for a boy condemned by his own father can hope for no mercy from the world. He is your only son, Mr. Spaythe; forgive him.”
During this impassioned speech, which came straight from the young fellow’s heart, the banker sat staring at him with dull, expressionless eyes. Eric had raised his head to gaze at Phil wonderingly. Then he turned to his father a pleading look that might have melted his anger had he seen it; but Mr. Spaythe still stared at Phil Daring, as if dazed by the boy’s frankness.
Mr. Ferguson slowly rose and laid an arm across the banker’s shoulder. The gesture was strangely caressing, as between one man and another.