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Updated: June 26, 2025
She had never preferred to feel any attachment for Herbert, and the boy, quick to read her want of feeling, never cared to be with her. One morning, after Mr. Reynolds and Grant had gone out, Mrs. Estabrook, on going to the hall, saw a letter on the table, which had been left by the postman.
"Do you mean to say I stole your bonds?" he demanded. "Yes, I do; and it was a base, cruel act." "I agree with you in that, Mrs. Estabrook. It was base and cruel, but I had nothing to do with it." "You dare to say that, when you brought the bonds to my son, Willis, to be sold to-day?" "Is this true, Grant?" asked Mr. Reynolds. "Did you sell any bonds at the office to-day?" "Yes, sir."
For some reason which he could not understand, however, Willis Ford was far from cordial, often addressing him in a fault-finding tone, which at first disturbed Grant. When he found that it arose from Ford's dislike, he ceased to trouble himself about it, though it annoyed him. He had discovered Ford's relationship to Mrs. Estabrook, who treated him in the same cool manner.
The last traces of the limber strength of body, gone with her girlhood, came back. She wore no longer, at that second, the mien of a nun of household service. She was transfigured. "It's Monty Cranch!" she cried under her breath. "He isn't dead! I knew he wasn't. I knew it always." "Go now," I said. "Mr. Estabrook has something of a story to tell you."
"I shouldn't wonder if he had gone to Central Park on some excursion," returned the housekeeper calmly. "You think there is nothing wrong?" asked the broker, anxiously. "How could there be here, sir?" answered Mrs. Estabrook, with unruffled demeanor. This answer helped to calm Mr. Reynolds, who ordered dinner delayed half an hour.
I asked those questions, too, when one night a month ago she came into my bedroom, walking like a ghost in her bare feet. "Margaret," she whispered, trembling, "I can't wake Mr. Estabrook. I haven't the courage to. I want you to come to the front windows." "Yes," said I. "What is the matter?" "Oh, I don't know!" she cried. "Come. Come. He is there again!"
"They will some time be put on the market, and then we shall have a clew to the mystery." "That boy has probably got them," said the housekeeper, nodding her head emphatically. "You are at liberty to search my chamber, Mrs. Estabrook," said Grant, quietly. "He may have passed them over to that man Morrison," suggested the housekeeper.
Estabrook would not consent to tearing the cover from his affairs in any way which would cost him the breach of his confounded words of honor. "You are a madman!" I exclaimed in my vexation. "The death of your wife may be entered against you. What folly!" "Doctor," he answered quietly, "I want your help and not abuse. Your storming will not accomplish anything.
I licked a couple of 'em." Mrs. Estabrook read Herbert's letter with intense interest. She saw that the little boy's testimony would seriously incriminate Willis Ford, if he were recovered, as he would be if this letter came into his father's hands. "There's only one thing to do," the housekeeper reflected, closing her thin lips tightly.
"Great Scott, Doctor," he cried in sincere surprise. "I forgot you were here!" "Come! Come!" said I. "Some one is wearing his thumb off on that bell." As he swung the door back, obeying me like a man in a dream, a voice outside mumbled indistinctly. "Yes," said Estabrook, "I am he." Then closing the door he came into the room, fumbling along the wall for the electric switch.
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