"Harry," pleaded Eversleigh, feebly.
"Don't call me 'Harry,'" replied Bennet. "You have lied to me and stolen from me. I must think," he wound up, as he released his hold of the other and walked up and down the floor.
Meanwhile Eversleigh's sobs subsided, and he ventured to look at Bennet. Bennet noticed the glance at once.
"I believe," said he, "if I did what I ought to do, I should have you arrested at once for fraud; but I don't see that that would do me any good."
"Harry," said Eversleigh, haltingly, "I was your father's friend, and I was never unkind to you."
"Never unkind to me! What have you done with my money?"
"I never had a penny of it."
"Oh, you put the blame on Silwood! He is dead, and cannot deny the charge."
"I never had anything to do with selling your property, Harry. I did not know it had been sold until a day or two ago—until yesterday, in fact."
"But you did know when you wrote me. You lied about it."