“An American engineer, James Sherlock. He came here once or twice in the old days when my father was alive. He is a very fine man.”
“I hope she will be happy.”
“There is no doubt of that,” answered Joy, “but she will not be as happy as we shall. But what news is there from England? My uncle?”
Roger Bracknell’s face grew a little graver as he looked at her, then he said quietly, “I think I had better tell you at once, and dismiss the unpleasantness once and for all.... I told him of his son’s death, without telling him all that lay behind it. It was a great shock to him—and for a little time he broke down completely. He seemed to regard it as in some way a judgment on himself, and he made a confession to me.”
“A confession!” Joy stopped and looked at him with eyes that were wide with fear. “You do not mean that he knew that Adrian intended——”
“He knew nothing, not even of your marriage with Dick, and even now he does not know that your father’s death was anything but accidental. He was, I could tell, in complete ignorance of the real object of his son’s journey here, and thought it had to do with his confessed infatuation for you. The confession he made had to do with his financial affairs. It appears that he has speculated rashly, that his affairs have become very much involved, and that absolute control of your money was needed to save him.”
“I gave it,” cried Joy.
“Yes! and it did save him. Some of his ventures turned out very well after all, but that matters nothing now. Adrian was the apple of his eye, and his loss, as I said, he regarded as a personal judgment on himself as he had first sent Adrian to North Star in the hope that the match he desired would come to pass.”
“But he did not know of Dick. He was not party to my cousin’s schemes——”
“I am sure he was in absolute ignorance.”