"Cheer up, brother," he said, "There may yet be time. Life is with you still."
"Ah, but have I not searched all this week? And did not that man promise to take me to them?"
Dorothy had shrunk back when Mr. Burlock said the man who had put terror in her own life was the same person who had destroyed his happiness. Then it was as Ralph said,—Miles Burlock did figure in the mysterious case.
The evening was melting into night. Major Dale was still feeble from his illness and his daughter, quick to see the look of pain on his loved face, determined to stop the story for the time being.
"You must lie down, father," she said, putting her arm about him, "You know the doctor said to be very careful."
With a promptness that bespoke good breeding the visitor arose.
"Pray pardon me," he said politely. "I have been very selfish. I will not disturb you longer. I will come again to-morrow."
"We will be very glad, indeed, to help you, if we can," the major replied, rather faintly, for Dorothy had not spoken a moment too soon for his comfort.
"The real matter with which I would ask you to help me is the putting aside, now, of the money which is in my name, and which should be secured against enemies of my poor wife and daughter," said Miles Burlock. "I will never again trust anything to the uncertain time when they may be found, for I believe now they are being kept away from me by this same scoundrel, Andrew Anderson. It may be well for you to know his name."
"And where is he?" asked the major, his voice showing the feeling he could not hide, a determination to deal severely with the man who had threatened Dorothy.