"And Ferdy Wickersham has spent it in Wall Street."
"What! No, he has not! There, at least, you do him an injustice. What he has got from me he has invested securely. I have all the papers--at least, some of them."
"How has he invested it?"
"Partly in a mine called the 'Great Gun Mine,' in New Leeds. Partly in Colorado.--I can help Norman with it." Her face brightened as the thought came to her.
Keith shook his head.
"The Great Gun Mine is a fraud--at least, it is worthless, not worth five cents on the dollar of what has been put in it. It was flooded years ago. Wickersham has used it as a mask for his gambling operations in Wall Street, but has not put a dollar into it for years; and now he does not even own it. His creditors have it."
Her face had turned perfectly white.
A look, partly of pity for her, partly of scorn for Wickersham, crossed Keith's face. He rose and strode up and down the room in perplexity.
"He is a common thief," he said sternly--"beneath contempt!"
His conviction suddenly extended to her. When he looked at her, she showed in her face that she believed him. Her last prop had fallen. The calamity had made her quiet.