"You said that he went crazy--do you mean actually?"
"Actually--a maniac--raving."
"Then why do you blame yourself so much?"
"Because I should have pulled out when I saw how things were going. We had quarrelled before over trifles and I knew he would be furious. You can't blame me more than I blame myself, Miss Dunbar. I suppose you think they should hang me?" There was a pleading note in the question and he wiped the perspiration from his forehead while he waited for her answer.
She did not reply immediately but when she finally looked him squarely in the eyes and said quietly: "No, because I believe you," Bruce thought his heart turned over with relief and joy.
"What you have told me shows merely that he had not changed--that my hopes for him were quite without foundation. Even as a child he had a disposition--a temper, that was little short of diabolical. We have all been the victims of it. I should not want to see another. He disgraced and ruined us financially. Now," Helen said rising, "you must go back to your friends. I'll take a taxicab home--"
"Please let me go with you. They can wait for me--or something," he added vaguely. The thought of losing sight of her frightened him.
She shook her head.
"No--no; I won't listen to it." She gave him her hand: "I must thank you for sending back my letter and picture."
"Sprudell gave them to you!"
"Yes, and the money."
"Money?"
"Why, yes." She looked at him inquiringly.
Just in time Bruce caught and stopped a grin that was appearing at the thought that Sprudell had had to "dig up" the money he had returned to him out of his own pocket.
"That's so," he agreed. "I had forgotten. But Miss Dunbar," eagerly. "I must see you on business. Your brother left property that may be valuable."
"Property? Mr. Sprudell did not mention it."
"I suppose it slipped his mind," Bruce answered drily. "You'll give me your address and let me come to-morrow?"
"Will you mind coming early--at nine in the morning?"
"Mind! I'll be sitting on the steps at sunrise if you say so," Bruce answered heartily.
How young she looked--how like the little girl of the picture when she laughed! Bruce looked at his watch as he returned to his party to see how many hours it would be before nine in the morning.
* * * * * The shabbiness of the hotel where Helen lived surprised him. It was worse than his own. She had looked so exceptionally well-dressed the previous evening he had supposed that what she called ruin was comparative affluence, for Bruce had not yet learned that clothes are unsafe standards by which to judge the resources of city folks, just as on the plains and in the mountains faded overalls and a ragged shirt are equally untrustworthy guides to a man's financial rating. And the musty odor that met him in the gloomy hallway--he felt how she must loathe it. He had wondered at the early hour she'd set but when Helen came down she quickly explained.