“Will you take a repentant, adoring fool?” she asked, and John Hale’s low cry of happiness found echo in her heart as, regardless of the others, he slipped his arm about her and led her from the library.
Mrs. Hale watched the lovers disappear, and with mixed feelings, searched hastily for a dry handkerchief. But all she dragged to light out of her bag was a half sheet of note paper.
“Bless me!” she exclaimed. “Here’s that note from Austin to me saying he was going to San Francisco—what did you do with the last page, my dear?” turning to Judith.
“The last page?” echoed Judith; she looked as puzzled as she felt, and Jim Turner answered the question for her.
“I found that paper in Austin’s bedroom, also,” he volunteered. “It was just the half-sheet. Why he brought it with him I don’t know, but anyway I thought it a good plant and slipped the page in the pocket of Miss Judith’s electric, knowing some one would find it.” He turned to Mrs. Hale who had moved a trifle nearer. “I have your memorandum of Austin’s indebtedness to you; I kept it for blackmailing purposes, but”—he stopped abruptly, conscious that his voice was a bit shaky.
“How’d you happen to disguise yourself as a woman?” asked Ferguson.
“I used to play in amateur theatricals, and on account of my small size, effeminate appearance and voice was generally cast for a girl’s part,” Turner explained. “I had to lay low after that Shield’s affair—it meant fifteen years in the ‘pen’ if caught. Well,”—with his free hand he dashed away the moisture which had gathered on his forehead and felt his closely shaven head—“I’d rather be hung than endure a living death. Come on, Ferguson,” and without a backward glance he departed in charge of the detective.
Mrs. Hale dropped down on the divan and her expression caused her husband to hurry to her side.
“Are you going to faint, Agatha?” he asked anxiously.
She looked at him vacantly before answering.