The next morning he had a note from Helen asking him to call in the afternoon. "You remember my speaking to you about the check for twenty thousand dollars my father gave me," she said, when he had come. Her face was pale and she spoke with an effort. "I've decided what to do with it. I want you to help me."
"If I can," he said.
"I've been thinking a great deal about Mr. Rogers." She paused, then went on, her voice more strained. "He should not have lost that money. I have cashed the check. I want to give the money to Mr. Rogers—not as a gift, but as property that belongs to him."
He looked wonderingly into her pained eyes. "You're in earnest?" he said slowly.
"I am—I must do it. And I want you to take the money to him, from"—she obeyed a sudden instinct of blood-loyalty—"from my father."
His anger against her father suddenly flamed up. "From your father? I know how much your father knows of this plan!"
She went on as if she had not heard him, though she had quivered at his words. "I want you to take the money to Mr. Rogers. You will know what to say."
The full significance of what she had said was just dawning upon him. He gazed at her, wondering what must have been passing in her mind these last few days.
"Mr. Rogers is very proud," he said. "He'll not take the money—at least not from me."
"You're certain?"