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He looked at Plume again and licked his lips. Plume's eye was still on him. "What do you know!" he asked Plume. "Only what others know. They all know it or will soon." Wickersham's face settled more. He cursed in a low voice and then relapsed into reflection. "Get up a strike," said Plume. "They are ripe for it. Close her down and blow her up."
Turley having seen the girl in town, and the old fellow went immediately and took her out of the little boarding-house where she had put up, and brought her to his home. Keith was not long in doubt as to the connection between her presence and Wickersham's. Several times he had occasion to call at Mr. Turley's.
The whole floor was filled with pens and railed-off places, beyond which lay the private offices of the firm. Mr. Wickersham was "engaged," and Keith had to wait for an hour or two before he could secure an interview with him. When at length he was admitted to Mr. Wickersham's inner office, he was received with some cordiality.
Wickersham, without looking at him, made an angry gesture and hastened his step. The other, however, did the same, and at his shoulder began to whine. "Mr. Wickersham, just a word." "Get out," said Wickersham, still walking on. "I told you never to speak to me again." "I have a paper that you'd give a million dollars to get hold of." Wickersham's countenance showed not the least change.
"Yes, I believe I am." "I saw Steve Elliott and 'Rene Burnham driving that way a few minutes ago. I thought they was over at the camp." Mrs. Wickersham had resumed her work and had her back toward her daughter. "They weren't there to-day," said Em listlessly. "Does she go with him much?" There was a rising resentment in Mrs. Wickersham's voice. Em glanced at her anxiously.
"You were sober enough to make me carry a thousand shares of weak stock for you till yesterday, when it fell twenty points," said Wickersham. "Oh, I guess you were sober enough." "She is in town," said Rimmon, in a dull voice. "Who says so?" "I have seen her." "Where is she?" indifferently. "She is ill. She is mad." Wickersham's face settled a little.
"Now," said Keith, looking up from the paper, "I will see that Mrs. Wickersham's family is put in possession of this paper." "Couldn't you lend me a small sum, Mr. Keith," asked Plume, wheedlingly, "just for old times' sake? I know I have done you wrong and given you good cause to hate me, but it wasn't my fault, an' I've done you a favor to-day, anyhow."
I sit by the hour trying to foist the blame upon Archie Wickersham, and he's no more guilty than Dexter. Dexter's merely good-natured about his crookedness; wholesome about it, somehow. And Wickersham's a sneak!" In all the years they had lived together Miss Sarah had never heard her brother talk so bitterly. Yet her voice remained soft.
He leant slightly forward and spoke slowly, his burning eyes fastened on Wickersham's face. "Your statement would be equally infamous whether it were true or false. You know that it is a lie, and you know that I know it is a lie. I will let that suffice. I have nothing further to say to you." He tapped on the edge of the glass again, and Dennison walked in. "Dennison," he said, "Mr.
He was gratified to see Wickersham's cold face turn white. It was a sweet revenge. "My wife! I have no wife." Wickersham looked him steadily in the eyes. "You had one, and she is in town." "I have no wife," repeated Wickersham, firmly, not taking his eyes from the clergyman's face. What he saw there did not satisfy him. "I have your statement." The other hesitated and reflected.
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