Hilton was swift to see what advantage for him lay in the situation. He stepped nearer Mr. Morton.
“It means that I am the victim of a most unfortunate misunderstanding,” he spoke up quickly. “Mr. Clifford believed, mistakenly, that I had come wrongfully by some five thousand dollars in my possession, and he took the money from me and placed me under arrest.”
“It’s none of my business, I suppose,” Mr. Morton said, “but is this correct, Mr. Clifford?”
Clifford remained silent for a moment. In a flash he saw that for him to answer with the full truth would lead to Mary’s instant ruin: this after he had declared that he had stepped out of her life, that he was going to leave to experience and her own decisions the shaping of her fate.
“The last part of his statement is correct,” replied Clifford—“that I took the money from him and placed him under arrest.”
“But he declares the money is his. If not, whose is it?”
In the passing moment Clifford had decided to put it squarely up to Mary, to thrust the tangled threads of her destiny into her own hands. But Hilton beat him to the very reply he intended making.
“Ask Mrs. Grayson whose money it is,” cried Hilton, and, wheeling, he gave Mary a meaning look.
But Mr. Morton’s eyes waited on Clifford. Clifford turned and gazed at Mary.
“Yes, ask Mrs. Grayson,” said Clifford.