Some few weeks after his visit to Colonel Morehead at the Barristers' Club, Peter V. Wilkinson presented himself at the Riverside Drive house. He had waited until he had grown a stubbly beard once more before introducing himself to his family, and then one morning, feeling very much as he looked, he had come in straggling, half-dazed, tired, bedraggled, a sad object to behold, but in spite of all he was received, like the proverbial prodigal, with open arms.
Then followed days of explanation and secret conferences. His family physician had diagnosed his case as one of loss of memory; Murgatroyd had thrown up his hat in glee; the county force at once became active; the newspapers chattered in cold type like magpies; and what is more, the final stay obtained by Colonel Morehead was drawing to a close.
But all the time that Murgatroyd felt that he had at last landed Wilkinson, Leech kept his own counsel, and secretly he was very happy. For did he not hold within his grasp the governorship, wealth, and in his arms, almost, the daughter of Peter V. Wilkinson?
They were sitting in Leslie's room at the top of the house one morning, Wilkinson and his daughter. The father was puffing away at a big black cigar, and looking very much out-of-place in the dainty apartment with its poppy-covered walls and chintz furnishings, the girl wearing a far more cheerful look than had been on her face for many moons, was luxuriating in a silken-covered chair.
"It's coming out all right, isn't it, father? How many nights have I prayed that you would get away—even if I never saw you again. And now it's coming out all right." She smiled a sad little smile; presently she added: "You've got a man that the National Banks can't buy...."
Her tone was the least bit cautious and reserved—as one who withholds judgment. This did not escape Wilkinson. But he pressed his point.
"You're sure you want Leech?" he asked. "I don't want to force you, but he's a loyal friend of ours. He's run the National conspiracy to earth, is brave enough to face fire for me—he's a true friend, girlie."
Leslie's eyes glowed. She caught her father about the neck, and hiding her face against his shoulder, she whispered:
"Of course I want him, father. I—I would not have anybody else...."