Mortimer
for the girl's affection, he could not but be pleased to see the younger
man removed from his path, and in a way which would forever preclude his
aspiring to Allis's hand. Believe in Mortimer as she might, he felt sure
that she would not run counter to the inevitable wishes of her mother
and marry a man who stood publicly branded as a thief.

Allis answered his observation--he distinctly felt the vibration of pain
in her voice--with a startling depth of analytical discernment:--

"While I believe in Mortimer's innocence, and will always believe in
it, I am afraid that he has drawn such a web of circumstantial evidence
about him, trying to shield some one else, that--that--it is too
terrible!" she broke off, passionately--"he is innocent. For God's sake,
Mr. Crane"--she took the reins in her whip hand, and put her left on his
arm, pleadingly--"for God's sake, for his mother's sake, save him. You
can do it--you can believe that he is innocent, and stop everything. The
money has been paid back."

"It isn't that, Miss Allis"--his voice was so cuttingly even after
the erratic pump of her own--"in a bank one must not have a dishonest
person. We must investigate to the end, and if Mortimer can clear
himself by fastening the crime upon the perpetrator--"

"He will never do that; he cannot if he would."

"What can I do then, Miss Allis? But why shouldn't he?"

"Can't you see--don't you understand the man? He commenced by shielding
some one, and he will carry it through to the bitter end."

"I am afraid there was no one to shield but himself--everything points
to this conclusion. The money was locked up, he had the keys, no one
touched them--except your brother, and that but for a minute--but if
any suspicion could attach to your brother it is all dissipated by
Mortimer's subsequent actions. It's unpleasant to even hint at such a
contingency, but if Mortimer is innocent, then your brother must be the
guilty one."

He expected the girl to denounce indignantly such a possibility; he was
surprised that she remained silent. Her non-refutation of this deduction
told him as conclusively as though she had uttered the accusation that
she thought Alan had taken the money and Mortimer was shielding him. It
was but a phase of blind love; it was the faith women place in men they
love, of which he had read and scoffed at.

Against all evidence she was holding this man honest, believing her
brother the thief.

Surely a lo