"Why, certainly, Mrs. Dunlap—I'm—delighted to be able to do anything for you."
There was a high-strained quality to his voice and his attempt at a laugh was a decided failure. His hand was shaking, as he wrote his name, Ralph H. Oliver across the back of the check. It was an old blank one which Mrs. Dunlap had carried with her in her purse for several months in case of emergency. That morning she had made it out to herself, signed with her maiden name and endorsed it. But the man who endorsed it again was not even noticing whether it was a check or not. He was only bestirring his clever brain to get him out of this situation, and by the time the name was written, he had made his decision. He would ignore this girl, and get himself out of the room at once, and out of the building, even if he was obliged to emerge through the tenth-story window to the street. Anything no matter how ghastly, was better than what would probably happen if he remained.
He swung himself around to face Mrs. Dunlap, and put Marguerite out of range, as he handed over the check with a hand that was shaking visibly.
Again the stiffening lips wrinkled themselves into a ghastly semblance of a smile as he spoke, his manner an attempt at the debonair:
"Mrs. Dunlap, I think my wife is in my private office, and she will never forgive me if I do not call her. She will want to see you if only for a moment. Let me go and call her."
"Oh, I'll call her, Mr. Oliver!" said the secretary eagerly, half rising from her desk.
"No, no, Miss Flinch. I'll call her myself. I want you to get those letters out before the next mail please. It is very imperative. I'll just call her."
"Indeed, Mr. Oliver, I cannot possibly wait a moment," interrupted Mrs. Dunlap. "Tell Mrs. Oliver for me that I am returning this way in a week or two and I will call her up and make an appointment to see her. But now I really must hasten away. I have friends here with me who are in haste. By the way, of course you know them." She stepped back and turned toward Mrs. Sheldon who had risen and come forward, her eyes stern, her face full of indignation and dislike. "My friend Mrs. Sheldon. I think you have already met in her home town and Miss Sheldon, her daughter? And now we mustn't keep you an instant."
Nelson Whitney had long ago discarded the enveloping newspaper and was on his feet, standing in the shadow of the alcove, with eyes only for the white-faced girl. When the others stepped before her and hid his vision, he came forward into the light, forgetting that he did not intend to reveal his identity just now, forgetting everything but that the beloved eyes were filled with sudden awful comprehension, and agony, the beloved lips were trembling visibly, and his darling looked like a white lily stricken and about to fall.
Sudden revelation had made him, too, wise as to the situation; for when Mr. Ralph Oliver turned to hand Mrs. Dunlap the endorsed check, the light from the windows fell full upon his ashen face, and Whitney recognized him at once as Rufus Keller, and the whole dastardly truth burst upon him. For an instant his desire to take the scoundrel by the collar and thrash him, or fling him from the room almost overcame him, as he took another step forward; and then suddenly a new element entered the scene in the appearance of the two girls and their mother from the inner office!