Allis answered his observation—he distinctly felt the vibration of pain in her voice—with a startling depth of analytical discernment:—
“While I believe in Mortimer's innocence, and will always believe in it, I am afraid that he has drawn such a web of circumstantial evidence about him, trying to shield some one else, that—that—it is too terrible!” she broke off, passionately—“he is innocent. For God's sake, Mr. Crane”—she took the reins in her whip hand, and put her left on his arm, pleadingly—“for God's sake, for his mother's sake, save him. You can do it—you can believe that he is innocent, and stop everything. The money has been paid back.”
“It isn't that, Miss Allis”—his voice was so cuttingly even after the erratic pump of her own—“in a bank one must not have a dishonest person. We must investigate to the end, and if Mortimer can clear himself by fastening the crime upon the perpetrator—”
“He will never do that; he cannot if he would.”
“What can I do then, Miss Allis? But why shouldn't he?”
“Can't you see—don't you understand the man? He commenced by shielding some one, and he will carry it through to the bitter end.”
“I am afraid there was no one to shield but himself—everything points to this conclusion. The money was locked up, he had the keys, no one touched them—except your brother, and that but for a minute—but if any suspicion could attach to your brother it is all dissipated by Mortimer's subsequent actions. It's unpleasant to even hint at such a contingency, but if Mortimer is innocent, then your brother must be the guilty one.”
He expected the girl to denounce indignantly such a possibility; he was surprised that she remained silent. Her non-refutation of this deduction told him as conclusively as though she had uttered the accusation that she thought Alan had taken the money and Mortimer was shielding him. It was but a phase of blind love; it was the faith women place in men they love, of which he had read and scoffed at.
Against all evidence she was holding this man honest, believing her brother the thief.
Surely a love like that was worth winning; no price was too great to pay. Her very faith in Mortimer, through which she sought to save him by inspiring Crane, determined the latter to crush utterly the man who stood between him and this great love. Intensity of hate, or love, or cupidity, never drew Crane out of his inherent diplomacy; he took refuge behind the brother of Allis.