upon reaching the new york railway station, adrian had stopped long enough to send his mother an explanatory telegram, so that she might not worry over his sudden disappearance. he had also urged her in it, to “make a good visit, since he would be at home to look after his father.”

in this new consideration for the feelings of others he was now thankful that mrs. wadislaw was away. “she gets so anxious and frightened over father’s ‘spells,’ though he always comes out of them well,” he reflected; then did what he remembered to have seen her do on similar occasions. he helped his father to the lounge, loosened his collar, bathed his head, and administered a few drops of a restorative kept near at hand.

[pg 303]

in a few moments the banker sat up again and remarked:

“it is queer that no doctor can stop these attacks. i never quite lose consciousness, or rather i seem to be somebody else. i have an impulse to do things i would not do at other times—yet what these things are i do not clearly remember when the attack passes. but i always feel better for some days after them. for that reason i do not dread them as i would, otherwise. strange, that a man has to lose his senses in order to regain them! a paradox, but a fact.”

“do you have them as often as formerly?”

“oftener, i think. they are irregular. i may feel one coming on again within a few hours or it may not be for weeks. the trouble is that i may be stricken some time more severely and fall senseless in some unsafe place.”

“don’t fear about that, father. i am at home again, you know, and shall keep you well in sight. if you would only give up [pg 304]business and go away to europe, or somewhere. take a long rest. you might recover entirely then and enjoy a ripe old age.”

“i can’t afford it, lad. if those stolen bonds—but what’s the use of recalling them? your talk has brought my loss so freshly before me. i wish you hadn’t asked me about it. however, it’s done, and it’s late. let’s get to bed. i must be early at the bank, to-morrow. the builders are coming to look things over and estimate on the cost of safe deposit vaults in the basement. ours is one of the oldest buildings in the city and every inch of space has increased in value since it was put up. the waste room of that basement should bring us in a princely income, if the inspector will give the permit to construct the vaults. my head must be clear in the morning, if ever, and i must rest now. good-night.”

adrian saw his father to his room and sought his own, resolving to be present at the next day’s interview with the builders, and to [pg 305]give the banker his own most watchful care. but his thoughts soon returned to the startling knowledge he had gained concerning margot’s history, and when he fell asleep, at last, it was to dream of a prison on an island, of his mother in a cell, and other most distressing scenes. so that he awoke unrefreshed, and in greater perplexity than ever as to how he could find margot or be of any help to number 526.

but mr. wadislaw seemed brighter than usual, and was almost jovial in his discussion of the proposed alterations of his property.

“you will be a rich man, adrian, a very rich man, as i figure it. money is the main thing. get money and—and—keep it;” he added with a cautious glance around the breakfast room.

but there was nobody except the old butler to hear this worldly advice and he had always been hearing it. adrian, to whom it was given, heard it not at all. he was thinking of his island friends and wondering how [pg 306]he should find them. however, when they reached the bank, he rallied his wandering thoughts and gave strict attention to the talk between the banker and the builders, trying to impress upon his mind the dry facts and figures which meant so much to them.

“you say that this wall will have to be torn down. to reach bottom rock. why, sir, that wall has stood—adrian, what is that racket in the outer office? stop it. the porter should not allow—— but, sir, that wall is as thick as the safe built into it. i mean——”

mr. wadislaw passed his hand across his forehead and adrian, seeing this familiar sign of impending trouble, felt that his place was at his father’s side rather than in quelling that slight disturbance in the adjoining room. he took his stand behind the banker’s chair and rested his hand upon it.

mr. wadislaw cast a hurried, appealing glance upward, and the son smiled and nodded. the contractor moved about the [pg 307]place, tapping the walls, the floor, and the great chimney beside the safe; pausing at this spot and listening, tapping afresh, listening again, with a marked interest growing in his face.

but nobody noticed this, for, suddenly, the door slid open and there stood in the aperture a girl with wonderful, flowing hair and a face strangely stern and defiant.

“margot!”

but it was not at adrian she looked. at last she was in the presence of the man who had ruined her father. and—he knew her! aye, knew her, though they two had never met before and, as yet, she had spoken no accusing word. for he had sunk back in his seat, his face white, his eyes staring, his jaw dropped. to him she was an apparition, one risen from the dead to confront him with the darkest hour of all his past, when a broken-hearted wife had kneeled to him, begging her husband’s life. yet it was broad daylight and he wide awake.

[pg 308]

“are you malachi wadislaw?”

“i—i—thought you were dead!”

“no, not dead. alive and come at last to make you right the wrong you did my father. to make you open his prison doors and set him free.”

“are you philip romeyn’s wife? her hair—his eyes—i—i—am confused—adrian!”

“yes, father. i am here. margot!”

her glance passed from the father to the son but there was no relenting kindness in it. when the young suffer it is profoundly, and the inmost depths of margot’s nature were stirred by this first sight of her father’s enemy.

“philip romeyn’s wife lies in the grave, whither your persecution sent her. i am her daughter and his, come to make you do a tardy justice. to make you lead me to the place where you have hidden the bonds, the gold, you said he stole! for if stealing was done it was by your own hands, not his.”

“margot—margot! this is my father!” cried adrian, aghast.

[pg 309]

“yes, adrian, and my father—my father—wears a convict’s garb this day because of yours!”

“no, no! no, no. i tried to save him, but he would not save himself! i begged him, almost on my knees i begged him, the little shaver, to confess and get the benefit of that. but he would not. there was no hope for him from the beginning. none. they found me all but dead. the money gone. he by me, the steel rod in his hand with which we used to fasten the—that very safe. i—— why, i can see it all as if it were to-day, even though they lifted me for dead, and found him standing, dazed and speechless. when they questioned him about the money he said: ‘ask malachi wadislaw. i never touched it.’ that was all. but they proved it against him. i was dead—almost—and i was beggared. beggared!” his voice rose to a scream, “by that brave little shaver who had once—once saved my life. robbed and murdered—his benefactor, who had made [pg 310]him rich and prosperous. should he not suffer? aye, forever!”

the silence that followed this speech was intense. the builder ceased his inquisitive tapping and listened spellbound. old joe stood rigidly behind the girl whom he had followed. adrian scarcely breathed. accused and accuser faced one another, motionless.

then: “where—was—it?” demanded margot. “show me—the place.”

“here. here, in this very sanctum to which nobody had the entrance but us two. there—is the monster safe that was robbed. with such another rod of steel”—he pointed to a bar resting above the safe—“was i struck—here.” his hand touched for an instant a deep scar on his temple and an involuntary shudder passed over the girl’s frame.

but her face did not change nor the defiance of her eyes grow less. she moved a step forward, and, as if to make way for her, the builder, also, stepped aside. as he did so [pg 311]his hammer caught upon the little ledge of the chimney projection which he had been testing and whose hollow sound had aroused his curiosity. the small slab of marble slipped and fell, though it had seemingly been securely plastered in the wall. it left an aperture of a few inches, and the contractor ejaculated:

“pshaw! that’s queer. must have been loose, i never saw just such a hole in such a place. i’m sorry, sir, yet——” he turned to address the banker but paused, amazed. what had he done?

the effect of that trivial accident upon the owner of the building was marvelous. he sprang to his feet, clasped his head with his hands, and gazed upon that tiny opening with the fascination of horror. for a moment it seemed as if his staring eyes would start from their sockets and he gasped in his effort to breathe.

“father! what is it? what ails you?”

but the distraught man tossed off his son’s [pg 312]arm like one who needed no support, and to whom each second of delay was unendurable.

“look, look! what they told me—i believed—look, look!” then he swayed and adrian caught him.

but margot’s anxious love leaped to a swift comprehension of what merely amazed the others.

“that hole! the bonds—the bonds are in that hole! that’s what he means. look, look!”

incredulous, but impelled by her insistence, the builder peered into the opening. it was too small to admit his head and his gaze could pass no further than its opposite side.

“there’s nothing there, miss, but a hole, as he said.”

she tossed him aside, not noticing, and thrust her arm down as far as it would reach.

“a stick, a string, something—quick! it is deep.”

nobody moved, till she turned upon the indian.

[pg 313]

“for the master, joe! a string and a weight. quick, quick!”

the empty-handed son of the forest was the man who filled her need. a new, well-leaded fishing line that had caught his fancy, passing down the street, came from his pocket. she seized, uncoiled, and dropped it down the hole.

“oh! it is so deep. but we must get to the bottom. we must, even if i tear that wall down with my own hands. you’ll help me, joe, dear joe, won’t you? for the master?”

he moved forward, instantly, but adrian interposed. he was colorless with excitement yet his voice had the ring of hope and expectation, as he bent and looked into malachi wadislaw’s eyes.

“is she right, father? do you hear me? is there anything in that small place?”

“i remember—i remember. the bonds. the bonds are safe. always—always keep your money in a hidden——”

[pg 314]

“god forbid!” groaned the lad. then to the builder, “get your men. tear down that wall. quick. a man’s life is at stake, or more than life—his honor.”

the contractor hesitated, then remarked:

“well, it won’t weaken the building, as i see; and we had decided on the work. it would have to come down anyway.”

he stepped to the street and summoned a waiting workman. they were skilled and labored rapidly, with little scattering of dust or mortar, though margot would not move aside even from that, but gave them room for working only, standing with gaze riveted on that deepening shaft. a mere shell of single bricks, plastered and painted as the remaining wall, had hidden it; and its depth was little below the thick-beamed floor.

at last the workman stood up.

“i think i see the bottom, sir, and there seems to be stuff in it. would you like to feel, young man?”

“no, no! i! it is i—to me the right—to [pg 315]find them!” cried margot, flinging herself between, and downward on the floor.

“but, margot, little girl, don’t be so sure. it’s scarcely probable——” began adrian, compassionately, shrinking from sight of her bitter disappointment, should disappointment come. alas! it would be almost as great to him, and whether a glad or sorry one he could not yet realize.

“his face! look at your father’s face. that tells the story. the bonds are there, and ’tis philip romeyn’s daughter shall bring them to the light.”

indeed, the banker’s expression confirmed her faith. its frenzied eagerness had given place to a satisfied expectation, and a normal color tinged his cheeks. but he still watched intently, saying nothing.

“catch them, adrian, catch them! but hold them fast, the horrible, accursed things!”

one after one, stooping, the exultant daughter lifted and flung them out. the [pg 316]folded papers seemingly so worthless but of such value; the little canvas bags of gold; the precious documents and vouchers, hidden from all other men by one unhappy man, in his miserly aberration. the price of fifteen years of agony and shame. now, fifteen years to be forgotten, and honor restored.

in that far past philip romeyn’s story had been simple and it had been true. he had been unaccountably anxious and had risen in the night and gone to the bank. he believed that the safe had not been locked, though he had been assured it should be by mr. wadislaw, the only other person who had a key to it. to his surprise he had found the banker in his office, but in dire mishap. he was lying on the floor, unconscious, bleeding from a wound upon his temple. the safe was open, empty. the steel bar which, at night, was padlocked upon it for extra security lay on the floor, beside the senseless man. mr. romeyn had picked this up and was standing with it in his hand, horrified and half-stupefied [pg 317]by the shocking affair, when the watchman, discovering light and noise, had entered and found them. it was his hasty, accusing voice which started the cry of robbery and murder; and the circumstances had seemed so aggravated, the circumstantial evidence so strong, that the judge had imposed the heaviest penalty within his power. the hypothesis that mr. wadislaw had himself put the contents of the safe away, had even perverted them to his own use; and that he had injured himself by falling against the sharp corner of the safe’s heavy and open door, had been set aside as too trivial for consideration.

the hypothesis had been correct, the circumstantial evidence incorrect; yet in the name of justice, the latter had prevailed.

“count them! have you counted them, adrian?”

“yes, margot. it is all here. the very sum of which i have so often heard. thank god, that it is found!”

[pg 318]

“my father! come, joe, we’re going to my father.”

“and i go with you. in my father’s name and to begin his lifelong reparation.”