“No, sir,” he responded, quietly. “I’m not going to betray the trust that girl has reposed in me.”
“How about the trust another girl has placed in me––and through me, in you?” Henry Blaine rose also, and gazed levelly into his operative’s eyes. “What of Anita Lawton? Have you considered her? I ought to dismiss you, Guy, at this moment, and I would if it were anyone else, but I can’t allow you to fly off at a tangent, and ruin your whole career. Why should you put this girl, Emily Brunell, before everything in the world––your duty to Miss Lawton, to me, to yourself?”
“She trusted me,” returned Morrow, with grim persistence.
“So did Henrietta Goodwin, in the case of Mrs. Derwenter’s diamonds; so did the little manicure, in the Verdun blackmail affair; so did Anne Richardson, in the Balazzi kidnaping mystery. You made love to all of them, and got their confessions, and if your scruples and remorse kept you awake nights afterward, you certainly didn’t show any effect of it. What difference does it make in this case?”
“Just this difference, Mr. Blaine”––Morrow’s words came with a rush, as if he was glad, now that the issue had been raised, to meet it squarely––“I love Emily Brunell. Whatever her father is, or has done, she is guiltless of any complicity, and I can’t stand by and see her suffer, much less be the one to precipitate her grief by bringing her father to justice. I told you the truth when I said that the cipher letter was an enigma to me. I could not solve the cryptogram, nor will I be the means of bringing it to the hands of those 157 who might solve it. I don’t want any further connection with the case; in fact, sir, I want to get out of the sleuth game altogether. It’s a dirty business, at best, and it leaves a bad taste in one’s mouth, and many a black spot in one’s memory. I realize how petty and sordid and treacherous and generally despicable the whole game is, and I’m through!”
“Through?” Henry Blaine smiled his quiet, slow, illuminating smile, and walking around the table, laid his hand on Morrow’s shoulder. “Why, boy, you haven’t even commenced. Detective work is ‘petty,’ you said? ‘Petty’ because we take every case, no matter how insignificant, if it can right a wrong? You call our profession ‘sordid,’ because we accept pay for the work of our brains and bodies! Why should we not? Are we treacherous, because we meet malefactors, and fight them with their own weapons? And what is there that is ‘generally despicable’ about a calling which betters mankind, which protects the innocent, and brings the guilty to justice?”
Morrow shook his head slowly, as if incapable of speech, but it was evident that he was listening, and Blaine, after a moment’s pause, followed up his advantage.
“You say that you love Miss Brunell, Guy, and because of that, you will have nothing further to do with an investigation which points primarily to her father as an accomplice in the crime. Do you realize that if you throw over the case now, I shall be compelled to put another operative on the trail, with all the information at his disposal which you have detailed to me? You may be sure the man I have in mind will have no sentimental scruples against pushing the matter to the end, without regard for the cost to either Jimmy Brunell 158 or his daughter. Naturally, being in love with the girl, her interests are paramount with you. I, too, desire heartily to do nothing to cause her anxiety or grief. Remember that I have daughters of my own. As I have told you, I firmly believe that the old forger is merely a helpless tool in this affair, but my duty demands that I obtain the whole truth. If you repudiate the case now, give up your career, and go to work single-handed to attempt to protect her and her father by thwarting my investigation, you will be doing her the greatest injury in your power. The only way to help them both is to do all that you can to discover the real facts in the case. When we have succeeded in that, we shall undoubtedly find a way to shield old Jimmy from the brunt of the blame.
“Don’t forget the big interests, political and municipal, at work in this conspiracy. They would not hesitate to try to make the old offender a scape-goat, and you know what sort of treatment he would receive in the hands of the police. Play the game, Guy; stick to the job. I’m not asking this of you for my own investigation. I have a dozen, a score of operatives who could each handle the branch you are working up just as well as you. I ask it for the sake of your career, for the girl herself, and her father. I tell you that instead of incriminating old Jimmy, you may be the means of ultimately saving him.––Go back to Emily Brunell now, get that letter from her by hook or crook, and bring it to me.”
The detective paused at length and waited for his answer. It was long in coming. Guy Morrow stood leaning against his desk, his brows drawn down in a troubled frown. Blaine watched the outward signs of his mental struggle warily, but made no further plea. 159 At last the young operative raised his head, his eyes clear and resolute, and held out his hand.