A wave of utter fear that passed over the face of Oliver, gave Whitney quick comprehension once more, and he saw suddenly what sorrow it would mean to these other innocent ones, as well as to his dear girl, if further revelations were made at that moment. Not for a second would he have hesitated for the sake of the villain, for he deserved every inch of punishment that was coming to him; but even in this crisis, it came to Nelson Whitney like a flash that there was one who had said, "Vengeance is Mine!"
Who was he to judge this cringing soul, and bring sorrow to these trusting other ones? Therefore he stopped where he stood, just behind the man who had done his best to shatter the joy of at least four lives, and waited. He was not even aware that he had come out of his hiding, or that his presence would presently need explanation. He just stood there as if he had been called to place by some higher power than himself, ready for the moment when he would be needed.
Oliver was a clever man, a cunning actor, else he could not so long have deceived those who loved him. He was quick to clutch again at the slender rope thrown out to him. With a suave distant manner, not too gracious, he acknowledged the introduction, standing where he was, and giving them but a polite lifting of the eyelids that swept them both in a cold distant glance:
"I believe we have met before—Winfield, was it? Or one of those little towns out that way? I am traveling so much and meeting so many—"
Nelson Whitney marveled at the colossal assurance that could speak such words so coolly, and then his attention was suddenly drawn to Mrs. Sheldon. She had drawn her sweet patrician dignity up about her as a garment, and seemed to stand fully two inches taller than her usual height, as she looked straight into the eyes of the man who had tried to deceive her only daughter. There was an instant's pause, as if her eyes could say to him all that her lips had been forbidden for the sake of others to do, and then her voice broke into clear contempt as she said:
"And our friend Mr. Whitney, Nelson Whitney of Wellsburgh! I think you have met him also, Mr.—Oliver?"
It was a masterly stroke, and conveyed to the wretched man all that a woman of Mrs. Sheldon's birth and breeding could never have said in words.
Oliver wheeled and faced Whitney, a look of genuine fright in his eyes. Just a flash, and then he turned quickly back and waved toward the three who were advancing eagerly from the office door:
"Here comes my wife now, and my daughters. I knew they would be delighted to see you. Mrs. Dunlap, will you do the honors and excuse me just a moment? There is a telegram I must send at once!" he glanced at his watch. "I had forgotten it."
He turned furtively, and Nelson Whitney was reminded of his dog at home who when he was reproved was in the habit of stealing from the room, half crouched, his tail between his legs, and stealthily looking back as he slithered out of the room.