"Is it true, mother? Tell me, tell me!"
Frances Cable's white lips moved stiffly, but no sound came forth. Her eyes spoke the truth, however. The girl sank limp and helpless in Graydon's arms and knew no more. At the foot of the steps Rigby was pointing his trembling finger at James Bansemer.
"You'll pay for this to-morrow!" he was saying. "Your day has come! You cutthroat! You blackmailer!"
"Graydon!" called the father. "Come, let us go home. Come, boy!"
"Not now--not now," answered the son hoarsely. "I'll--I'll try to come home to-night, father. I'm not sure that I can. My place is here--with her."
Without a word James Bansemer turned and rushed out into the street, tears of rage and disappointment in his eyes. He had not expected the gall. Until the break of day he sat in his chill room waiting for the rasp of his son's night key--but Graydon did not come home.