Allis, his brow wrinkled in anger. Only for an instant;
the forehead smoothed back into its normal placidity and his voice,
well in hand, said, in even tones: "Good afternoon, Miss Porter. Are you
going back to Ringwood?" and he nodded toward Allis's buggy.

"Yes, I am. I'm going now. Good day, Mr. Mortimer," and she held out her
hand.

Mortimer hesitated, and then, flushing, took the gloved fingers in his
own. Without speaking, he turned and passed into the bank.

"May I go with you?" asked Crane; "I want to see your father."

"Yes, I shall be glad to drive you over," the girl answered.

XLI

When they had passed the edge of the village the Banker said: "I doubt
if you would have shaken hands with Mr. Mortimer if you knew--I mean,
he is under strong suspicion, more than strong suspicion, for he is
practically self-accused of having stolen a sum of money from the bank.
In fact, I'm not sure that it wasn't from your father he really stole
it."

"I do know of this terrible thing," she answered. "I shook hands with
him because I believe him innocent."

"You know more than we do?" It was not a sneer; if so, too delicately
veiled for detection; the words were uttered in a tone of hopeful
inquiry.

"Mr. Mortimer could not steal--it is impossible."

"Have you sufficient grounds for your faith--do you happen to know who
took the money, for it was stolen?"

The girl did not answer at once. At first her stand had simply been one
of implicit faith in the man she had conjured into a hero of all that
was good and noble. She had not cast about for extenuating evidence; she
had not asked herself who the guilty man was; her faith told her it
was morally impossible for Mortimer to become a thief. Now Crane's
questions, more material than the first deadening effects of Alan's
accusation, started her mind on a train of thought dealing with motive
possibilities.

She knitted her small brows, and tapping the jogging horse's quarter
with the whip sat for many minutes silently absorbed.

Her companion waited for an answer with his usual well-bred patience.
Perhaps the girl had not heard him. Perhaps she did not wish to answer a
question so unanswerable. He waited.

Mortimer, being innocent, replaced the stolen money, Allis's mind
tabulated--she tickled this thought off on the horse with her whip--it
was to shield some one. Her heart told her, his eyes had told her, that
he would have taken upon himself this great ris