“I am afraid there is no longer any possible doubt,” was Lane’s uncompromising answer. “For some time, I may tell you, my suspicions have been tending in that direction—from the day, in fact, that I knew she was abetting this young impostor in his career of unbridled extravagance. We have yet got to find the real reasons of his sinister influence over her; they were more than those of ordinary womanly weakness.”
Morrice hardly heard those last few words. He was humbled beyond expression by the knowledge that, in his arrogant belief in his own infallibility, he had committed a grave injustice towards an innocent man.
“And I branded Richard Croxton, who was the son of the woman dearer to me than anything on earth, a thief,” he cried in a voice of anguish.
“It is always a mistake to form hasty judgments, Mr. Morrice,” said Lane soothingly. “But I admit your error was a quite natural one; it would have been committed by nine persons out of ten on such strong circumstantial evidence. I will confess that, at the beginning, I kept quite an open mind on the subject, if Miss Sheldon will forgive me for saying so.”
The girl flashed an indignant glance at him. “Would he have been such a fool as to consent to my calling in your services, Mr. Lane, if he had not been sure of his innocence?”
Lane, unmoved by her angry outburst, bestowed an indulgent smile upon her. “Ah, my dear young lady, your heart spoke there rather than your head. But I will not enter into any lengthy defence of myself, and explain to you why I sometimes am compelled to suspect my own clients. Well, happily there is no longer any question of Mr. Croxton’s vindication. The fact that this memorandum was found securely locked in the least accessible of Mrs. Morrice’s boxes, conveys enough to the mind of any reasonable man.”
Morrice rose up, his face working with the intensity of his emotion. “She must be made to confess, in justice to the innocent. I will go to her at once and wring the truth out of her.”
“But you do not know where she is,” cried Rosabelle swiftly.
The tortured man made a gesture of despair. He was longing to confront again this woman who was callous enough to let another suffer for her own black deeds. “True, I must wait till we hear from her. Great heavens, how can I have the patience to wait?”
The grave, resolute man, who never lost his head under the most perturbing circumstances, interposed: