"Yes, but everything is strange, when we come to think of it. God bless you. Sister,"—Ellen gave him her hands,—"good-by."
He kissed the girl, and then kissed Mrs. Witherspoon. Henry came toward him, but DeGolyer stopped him with a wave of his hand. "My dear boy, I'm not going out of the world. No, you mustn't grab hold of me. Stand where you are. You shall hear from me. Mr. Witherspoon, this time you must get up a statement without my help—I mean for the newspapers. I know that I have caused you a great deal of worry, but it is a pretty hard matter to live a lie even when it is imposed as a duty. By the way, a poor sea captain, Atkins is his name, brought Henry from Dura. I wish you would send him a check, care Wharfmaster, New Orleans."
"I will."
"Good-by, Mr. Witherspoon."
"Henry DeGolyer," said Witherspoon, grasping his hand, "you are the most honorable man I ever met."
"There, now!" DeGolyer cried, holding up his hand—they all were coming toward him—"do as I tell you and remain where you are."
He caught up his bag and hastened out. "To the Star office," he said to the cabman.