“Mrs. Ladew, I know your whole life for the past three days. You went to New York to attend the wedding of Mr. Ellison to Miss Sanborn, but you took occasion to travel about with Jimmy Lannigan, gambler, thief, burglar.”
Mrs. Ladew leaped to her feet, horror-stricken.
“Thief! Burglar!” she exclaimed. “You tell what is not true.”
“Sit down, Mrs. Ladew,” said Nick. “Lannigan is just what I say he is. A thief and a burglar, known to the police as the swell cracksman of Philadelphia. He attained an unenviable reputation a short time ago, and I could have landed him in prison; but I was lenient with him. I wanted to give him a chance to reform; but this is the outcome. He is a scoundrel of the worst type and I want to tell you that I shall have him arrested and imprisoned before many days. He has served a term in the State’s prison. He is an ex-convict.”
He paused to see the effect of his words on this lady of fashion.
“You think,” he went on, “Lannigan went on to New York to meet you and have a spree with you. That was not his real reason. His purpose was to rob the Sanborn house of the wedding presents. You had your spree, as I know, and I can give you every hour and minute of your movements with him through the Tenderloin.”
Mrs. Ladew fell back in her chair, her face ashen gray, as she heard Nick say these things. Nick went on:
“It is not for me to object to the way of life you have chosen, but I can say, as I did before, that you are a very foolish woman, and, especially, to endanger your reputation by being seen in the company of such a miserable scamp and rascal as this contemptible Jimmy Lannigan.”
“I have done nothing wrong,” she said.
“Perhaps not; but how would your husband like to know that your escort in New York was a burglar?”