LITMIR.BIZ

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had distinctness. He paused at the door and gazed long at her. Then he crossed the bare floor.

      She rose, gave him her firm, slender hand, and, allowing him half the settle, resumed her seat. Now that he could look directly into her face, he saw there repressed anxiety.

      "I came down this morning on an errand about the Flower Guild," she said. "I'm going back to the country this afternoon. I've been waiting to see you because I wanted to tell you something."

      She paused. David was conscious that she was making an effort to keep her anxiety out of her voice and manner.

      "It's not at all important," she went on. "Just a little matter about Mr. Morton. Oh, it's nothing wrong," she added quickly, noticing that David had suddenly paled. "I'm sure nothing unpleasant is going to develop. But I wanted you to know it, so that if there was any little difficulty, you wouldn't be taken by surprise."

      David's pulses stopped. "Yes?" he said. "Yes?"

      She had become very white. "It's about the money of the Boys' Farm Committee. Day before yesterday morning Mr. Haddon went to the Third National Bank to arrange for withdrawing the funds he had deposited in Mr. Morton's name. He found – Mr. Morton had withdrawn it."

      "Yes?"

      "Please remember, I'm sure nothing's wrong. Of course Mr. Haddon acted immediately. He called a meeting of the committee; they decided to make a quiet investigation at once. Father told me about it. So far they haven't found the money, but of course they will. The worst part is, the newspapers have somehow learned that five thousand dollars is missing from the Mission. The sum is not so large, but for it to disappear in connection with a place like this – you can see what a great scandal the papers are scenting? Several reporters were here just a little while ago. I sent them upstairs to Mr. Haddon."

      He stared at her dizzily. His plan was come to naught. Morton's shame was about to be trumpeted over the city. The people of St. Christopher's were about to topple back into the abyss.

      "What is Mr. Haddon doing upstairs?"

      "It occurred to him that possibly Mr. Morton had put the money in the safe in his study. I'm certain the money's there. Mr. Haddon's up in the study with a safe-opening expert."

      For a moment David sat muted by the impending disaster. Then he rose. "Come – let's go up!" he said.

      They mounted the stairs in silence, and in the corridor leading to Morton's apartment passed half a dozen reporters. David unlocked the apartment with his latch-key, led the way to Morton's study, and pushed open its door. Before the safe sat a heavily spectacled man carefully turning its dial-plate and knob. On one side of him stood Dr. Thorn, his formal features pale, and on the other side gray-haired Mr. Haddon, his hard, lean face, milled with financial wrinkles like a dollar's edge, as expressionless as though he was in the midst of a Wall Street crisis.

      Mr. Haddon recognised the presence of David and Helen with a slight nod, but Dr. Thorn stepped to David's side.

      "You've heard about it?" he asked in an agitated voice.

      "Yes – Miss Chambers told me."

      At that moment the safe door swung open. "There you are," said the spectacled man, with a complacent little grunt.

      Mr. Haddon dismissed the man and knelt before the safe. Helen and Dr. Thorn leaned over him, and David, still stunned by the suddenness of the catastrophe, looked whitely on from behind them. A minute, and Mr. Haddon's search was over.

      He looked about at the others. "It's not here," he said quietly.

      A noise at the door caused all to turn in that direction. There stood the reporters. They had edged into the apartment as the safe-expert had gone out.

      "Will you gentlemen please wait outside!" requested Mr. Haddon, sharply.

      "We've got to hurry to catch the afternoon editions," one spoke up. "Can't you give us the main facts right now? You've got 'em all – I just heard you say the money wasn't here."

      "I'll see you in a few minutes," answered Mr. Haddon, and brusquely pressed them before him into the corridor.

      When he reëntered the study he looked at them all grimly. "There's absolutely no keeping this from the papers," he said.

      "But there must still be another place the money can be!" Helen cried.

      "I've investigated every other place," returned Mr. Haddon, in the calm voice of finality. "The safe was the last possibility."

      They all three stared at each other. It was Dr. Thorn that spoke the thought of all. "Then the worst we feared – is true?"

      Mr. Haddon nodded. "It must be."

      David could not speak, nor think – could only lean sickened against the desk. The exposure of Morton – and a thousand times worse, the ruin of St. Christopher's – both inevitable!

      "Won't you please look again!" Helen cried, with desperate hope. "Perhaps you overlooked something."

      Mr. Haddon knelt once more, and slowly fluttered the pages of the books and scrutinised each scrap of paper. Soon he paused, and studied a slip he had come upon. Then he rose, and David saw at the head of the slip, "Cash Account of Boys' Summer Home." It was the paper he had prepared to hide Morton's embezzlement.

      Mr. Haddon's steady eyes took in David and Dr. Thorn. "Could anybody have been in the safe since Mr. Morton's death?"

      "It's hardly possible," returned Dr. Thorn. "Mr. Aldrich has been in the study almost constantly."

      Mr. Haddon's eyes fastened on David; a quick gleam came into them. David, unnerved as he was, could not keep his face from twitching.

      There was a long silence. Then Mr. Haddon asked quietly:

      "Could you have been in the safe, Mr. Aldrich?"

      David did not recognise whither the question led. "Why, yes," he said mechanically.

      Mr. Haddon held out the slip of paper. "According to this memorandum in Mr. Morton's hand, the money was in the safe the day before his death." His eyes screwed into David. "Perhaps you can suggest to us what became of the money."

      David stared at him blankly.

      "The money – was there – when Morton died!" said Dr. Thorn amazedly. He looked from one man to the other. Then understanding came into his face, and a great relief. "You mean – Mr. Aldrich – took it?"

      "I took it!" David repeated stupidly.

      He turned slowly to Helen. Her white face, with its wide eyes and parted lips, and the sudden look of fear she held upon him, cleared his head, made him see where he was.

      "I did not take the money!" he cried.

      "No, of course not," returned Mr. Haddon grimly. "But who did?"

      "If I'd taken it, wouldn't I have disappeared? Would I have been such a fool as to have stayed here to be caught?"

      "If the thief had run away, that would have fastened the guilt on him at once. To remain here, hoping to throw suspicion on Mr. Morton – this was the cleverest course."

      "I did not take the money!" David cried desperately. "It's a lie!"

      Helen moved to David's side, and gazed straight into Mr. Haddon's accusing face. Indignation was replacing her astoundment; her cheeks were tingeing with red.

      "What, would you condemn a man upon mere guess-work!" she cried. "Merely because the money is not there, is that proof that Mr. Aldrich took it? Do you call this justice, Mr. Haddon?"

      Mr. Haddon's look did not alter, and he did not reply. The opinion of womankind he had ever considered negligible.

      Helen turned to David and gave him her hand. "I believe you."

      He thanked her with a look.

      "It must have been Mr. Morton," she said.

      Her words first thrilled him. Then suddenly they rang out as a knell. If he threw off the guilt, it must fall on Morton; if Morton were publicly guilty, then the hundreds of the Mission —

      Mr. Haddon's hard voice broke

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