"Only hurriedly," acknowledged the Governor. "What I wanted to read first was the case made against you. I read your own denial—but as for the rest, well, you were rambling, somewhat incoherent. I didn't understand it—in fact I hardly read it all."
Ilingsworth dragged up a chair.
"Will you let me tell you, sir, all about it?"
Governor Beekman let him tell his story. And scarcely had the last words of Ilingsworth's recital of his wrongs left his lips than Phillips, entering, announced:
"Colonel Morehead and some friends to see you, sir!"
"Bring them right in!" exclaimed the Governor, at once rising and going with a smile to meet them. Suddenly he remembered Ilingsworth and started to escort that gentleman out of another entrance.
"But my daughter," mumbled Ilingsworth as with bowed head he followed the Governor. "If I can't have her back again, why, what's the good of a pardon? I must have help to find her." At the door something impelled him to pause, and looking back he found himself face to face with Peter V. Wilkinson.
"That's the man—there—the man that got my money—that's got my daughter! No matter where she is, he's responsible! Look at him! Look at his face! I don't have to tell you...."
But the Governor, startled by this outburst and intent upon getting rid of his visitor, did not turn, and consequently he did not see the face of Wilkinson blanch and twitch under the accusing forefinger of his old vice-president, Giles Ilingsworth.