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Other members of the bar had been warned long before the news came to him, and it was morally certain that if the facts were as bad as intimated, the police also were in possession of them. At the same time, Rigby felt a certain moral responsibility involving himself. Bansemer, at any time, might apply his methods to people who were near and dear to him.
He had forgotten Jane's trivial tragedy; his one overwhelming thought was of James Bansemer. The heavy ulster was unbuttoned and the snowflakes pelted in against his neglected shirt front. A doorman called his attention to the oversight. He came to himself, drew the coat close about his long frame, and hurried off down Fifth Avenue.
It was a brave little speech; such bravery would have softened a man of another mould changed his purpose. Not so with Bansemer. A sinister gleam came into his eyes and his attack became more brutally direct. "But the husband has he never mistrusted?" The blow told, though her reply was given with rippling laughter and for the benefit of any chance listeners. "For shame, Mr.
God alone can drag them from me." Graydon was silent, stunned, bewildered. His father was trembling before him, and he opened his lips to utter the question that meant so much if the answer came. "Don't ask me!" cried Bansemer. "You would be the last I'd tell. Marry her, and be dammed!" "I don't believe you know," cried Graydon. "Ah, you think I'll tell you?" triumphantly. "I don't want to know."
Droom stopped short and looked after the man, paralysed with amazement. Then he gave a snorting laugh at his own stupidity; of course, it was Bansemer. Who else could it be? Arriving at the spot where he had last seen the couple, he was amazed to find no one there. He realised, with horror, that the woman must have been struck down; had fallen or had been thrown into the lake.
As he stepped out into the night for a short walk over town he wondered, with a great pain in his heart, if Graydon Bansemer would turn from Jane when he heard the truth concerning her. "It's Harbert," said Elias Droom. "Why didn't you say to him that I am busy? I don't want to see him," said his employer in a sharp undertone. Droom's long finger was on his lips, enjoining silence.
You want to adopt the child and keep the matter dark so far as your husband is concerned? May I inquire the reason?" Bansemer, naturally, was interested by this time. "If you have time to listen, I'd like to tell you how it all comes about. It won't take long. I want someone to tell me just what to do and I'll pay for the advice, if it isn't too expensive. I'm very poor, Mr.
But not before he sent a quick, keen glance about the drawing-room to find if James Bansemer had been the single visitor of the afternoon. "Where is your mother?" he asked from the stairs, without looking back. "She has just gone to her room," Jane replied, a chill shooting through her veins.
"You stay here, young fellow, and you'll hear a story that will fill a whole paper. I am James Bansemer. Where is Cable? You!" to the servant. "Sh!" cried the frightened servant, recognising him. "Mrs. Cable is resting, sir." "What are you doing here?" Bansemer demanded of the reporter, exerting all his crafty resourcefulness in the effort to calm himself.
He was not well acquainted with the lawyer, but he now recalled that he never had liked the man. Bansemer had impressed him from the beginning as heartless, designing, utterly unlike his clean-hearted son. Bobby loved Graydon Bansemer in the way that one man loves a true friend.
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