Colonel Conrad’s head was bowed, and he appeared to be in deep thought. A hard, impenetrable look came across his features, and he said, in a perfectly calm voice:
“Carlos, your story is a strange one. If true, it is indeed a terrible record of wrong. You have done your duty, and I cherish no ill-will toward you. But I am lost and perplexed. Don’t you think it would stagger any man? I must think. You must leave me for the rest of the day—orrather I must leave you, for you will, both of you, be my guests. I must shut myself up. I will read the papers contained in the package, for that will be no more than an act of simple justice.”
“Thank you, my uncle,” said Carlos. “But I shall not consent to share your hospitality at present. As yet, you are my father’s enemy, and may continue to be so. We will remain at a hotel until you have investigated the matter and rendered a decision.”
“Yes,” said Leonard, “Carlos is right. For the present our abiding-place shall be the hotel.”
Colonel Conrad was not in a condition to dispute their decision or urge them to stay. His mind seemed to be under a cloud, and he made no reply to their remarks.
He did not rise, nor speak, but simply bowed, as they bade him good-day and took their departure.
CHAPTER II.
GEOFFREY HAYWOOD.
No. 32 Main street was the most elegant store in Dalton. Silks and laces, arranged in perfect order and taste, graced its windows; the counters bore a new and polished look, and everything about it betokened unwearying care and constant watchfulness on the part of its proprietor. The clerks had a subdued look, and moved about in an automaton-like manner, like horses thoroughly broken in, or trained dogs going through with their parts. When their master passed through the store, their submissive expression was augmented, if possible; and if his keen eye detected nothing to disapprove, they shot glances of mutual congratulation at each other.
Geoffrey Haywood was not called a hard employer, noran illiberal man, but those under him well knew that every cent they received was well and dearly earned. Nothing remiss was ever overlooked—no neglect of duty forgotten. When pay-day came, every inattention and inadvertence was found faithfully recorded against the delinquent.