“That will not matter in the least, sir,” she replied. “Lord Roane will gladly meet any just obligation, even though it may leave him penniless to do so.”
“My lord does not express himself quite so honorably as that,” replied Kāra, with an open sneer. “But this note of hand is really unimportant. I merely mentioned it to emphasize the debt that you and your grandfather already owe me. Your father has cleverly escaped the result of his misdeeds by absconding. Unfortunately, Lord Roane is unable to do the same thing.”
“No one will blame Lord Roane for his son’s faults,” she protested, greatly distressed by the cruelty of Kāra’s remarks.
“That is not my meaning,” he replied. “Roane’s own misdeeds are so much more serious than those of his son that, when they are discovered, he cannot escape a prison cell.”
Aneth gasped in horror. The accusation was at first beyond belief; but Kāra’s tone was positive and a sudden recollection of her grandfather’s doubtful life flashed over her and made her dread to question further.
It was not needful. The man continued calmly to enlighten her concerning McFarland’s crime and her grandfather’s participation in it, while the girl sat with wide-open eyes and a look of despair upon her white face.
Finally Kāra produced a second paper.
“This, Miss Aneth,” he said, more gently, “is the receipt signed by Lord Roane for his share of the stolen money. It is proof positive against him, and you will, of course, recognize his signature. Besides, I can produce two witnesses to the crime—a crime for which the penalty is, as I have hinted, a long term of imprisonment as well as dishonor through all the ages to come. But this is only for discovery. There is no penalty exacted for an undiscovered crime. Personally, I do not wish to see Lord Roane disgraced and sent to prison, or your invalid mother impoverished, and you, yourself, left to the mercies of a reproachful world; so I have come here to-day to save you all from these consequences of Roane’s folly, if you will let me.”
Aneth tried to control her bewilderment. She wanted to think calmly. So vividly had Kāra described Lord Roane’s offense, that she saw it all before her as in a dream, and knew that the old man’s feet were stumbling at the edge of a bottomless pit. But the last words of the Egyptian, if she heard them aright, seemed to promise a chance of her awakening and exorcising the nightmare.
“How can you save us?” she asked, wearily.