A woman's debt

by William Le Queux

“Now for my next question. Did Mr. Morrice know of this understanding between you, and if so, did he approve of it?”

To this the girl’s answer was equally frank. Up to the day of the robbery she could not have been absolutely certain that her uncle did know of it, although she was pretty sure he did. Their interest in each other was so openly displayed, that it was almost impossible it could have escaped his observation. If he had disapproved, he certainly would not have hesitated to express his disapproval, being a man of the most straightforward character, who never scrupled to express what was in his mind, or take drastic action when he judged it necessary.

“All doubt, however, on this point was removed by what he said to Richard on that terrible morning,” Rosabelle went on in a voice that trembled a little. “After overwhelming him with his anger at what he believed to be his baseness, he told him he knew we were attached to each other, and that he would have put no obstacles in our way. It was really as I thought. Richard was always a little dubious as to what his attitude might be, while I never had the slightest fear. We were both so very dear to him that I was always sure our marriage would have given him the greatest pleasure.”

The detective considered her reply carefully, as was his invariable custom. He never accepted any statement without probing it very deeply, none knew better than he the futility of jumping to rash and hasty conclusions.

“There would seem to be some reasonable ground for Mr. Croxton’s doubts in the matter,” he said very quietly. “Kind and generous as Mr. Morrice was to him, there was no actual blood-tie between them; you tell me the young man had practically no money of his own, that his future depended entirely on a continuance of his benefactor’s favour. You, on the other hand, are a near relative and it is to be assumed that your uncle will leave you a considerable sum. It would be a very natural thing that he should have different views for you, should have wished you to look a little higher than one who, after all, was not your equal in anything but birth. At any rate, it is what the ordinary person might think, of course; Mr. Morrice may be an exceptional man of liberal independent views.”

“Oh, but that is just what he is,” cried the girl warmly. In spite of her fervent belief in her lover, and perhaps a little natural resentment against her uncle for his obstinate presumption of Richard’s guilt, she loved him very dearly and thoroughly appreciated his sterling qualities.

“That is just what he is, Mr. Lane,” she repeated. “Rich as he is, hard as he works to make himself so, he does not love money for its own sake or value the possession of it in others. One or two of his closest friends are poor men, and he is happier in their society than in that of millionaires like himself. He loves his business and his work, it is true, but more for the mental excitement and stimulus they bring than for their pecuniary results. And he doesn’t attach much importance to birth or what the world calls position. At heart, I believe he is a good bit of a democrat.”

“If a millionaire can be truly a democrat!” suggested Mr. Lane with a smile. “Anyway, if he is one, there must be a good many reservations.”

The girl’s replies to his questions had rather disposed of a somewhat fantastic theory that had formed itself in rather nebulous shape in his astute brain, accustomed to weigh all sorts of possibilities and probabilities, to search for unusual and far-reaching motives. Had Morrice engineered this theft, not for the ordinary sordid reasons, but with the object of fixing upon the innocent secretary a stigma that would effectually remove him from his niece’s society? But then again, a man who could in cold blood conceive such a scheme would be more than the vilest criminal. It would be impossible that one of such good repute, for even his enemies and rivals credited Morrice with the highest integrity, should stoop to such sinister methods.

“Well, Miss Sheldon,” he said as the interview drew to a close, “I will not disguise that I am very disappointed with the result of my visit to Scotland Yard. When I found those strange finger-marks on the safe, I thought we were on the right track. Now, I have got to start again from the beginning, and I am afraid it will be a long time before I shall make any considerable headway. I shall do my best, but it may be that in the end I shall be beaten. I think you said you would be going abroad very shortly.”