"Yes, but I'm not to open them, yet. I can't tell you about that now." He grew red and played with his cravat.
"Where are they?" I asked.
"I've just had them sent to me; they're in the bank at Annandale. There's another thing you may not know. Old man Holbrook, who lived to be older than the hills, left a provision in his will that adds to the complications. Miss Pat may have mentioned that stuff in her father's will about the honor of the brothers—?"
"She just mentioned it. Please tell me what you know of it."
He took out his pocket-book and read me this paragraph from a newspaper cutting:
"And the said one million dollars hereinbefore specifically provided for shall, after the lapse of ten years, be divided between my said sons Henry and Arthur Holbrook, share and share alike; but if either of my said sons shall have been touched by dishonor through his own act, as honor is accounted, reckoned and valued among men, my said daughter Patricia to be the sole judge thereof, then he shall forfeit his share of said amount thus withheld, and the whole of said sum of one million dollars shall be adjudged to belong to the other son."
Gillespie lighted a cigarette and smoked quietly for several minutes, and when he spoke it was with deep feeling.
"I love that girl, Donovan. I believe she cares for me, or would if she could get out of all these entanglements. I'm almost ready to burn that packet and tell Miss Pat she's got to settle with Henry and be done with it. Let him spend his money and die in disgrace and go to the devil; anything is better than all this secrecy and mystery that enmeshes Helen. I'm going to end it; I'm going to end it!"
We had gone to the library, and he threw himself down in the chair from which she had spoken of him so short a time before that I seemed still to feel her presence in the room.
He was of that youthful, blond type which still sunburns after much tanning. His short hair was brushed smooth on his well-formed head. The checks and stripes and hideous color combinations in his raiment, which Miss Pat had mentioned at our first interview, were, I imagined, peculiar to his strange humor—a denotement of his willingness to sacrifice himself to mystify or annoy others. He seemed younger to-day than I had thought him before; he was a kind, generous, amusing boy, whose physical strength seemed an anomaly in one so gentle. He did not understand Helen; and as I reflected that I was not sure I understood her myself, the heads of the dragon multiplied, and my task at Annandale grew on my hands. But I wanted to help this boy if it was in me to do it, and I clapped him on the shoulder.