Dalton said. "He----"

"Is it possible to get Hillcombe on the long distance?"

The unfathomable self-possession made its own impression on Dalton.

"Very likely," he muttered.

"Then if you will give my man the number or the name of the hotel, or
whatever it may be, he will put in the call," said Anthony Fry. "Let us
hope that you'll be able to talk to your son shortly. If he doesn't
answer, wire him," Anthony pursued, impatiently. "That is the very best
I can suggest."

Theodore Dalton's hand passed through his hair, pausing to clutch it for
a moment; Wilkins, waiting attentively, met his eye and Dalton, having
cleared his dry throat, mumbled the name of a camp and turned back to
Anthony.

That remarkable figure was quite erect and merely waiting for a chance
to speak again. So far as the general theme was concerned, his mind was
fairly well settled; it meant certain ruin for him, if Dalton was kind
enough to believe; it was likely enough to mean even criminal
prosecution, but it bade fair to save Mary. Anthony even smiled
composedly as he tacked on new details; thus does suffering refine us!

Apparently, several of them were about to speak at once. Anthony held up
his lean, commanding hand for silence.

"One moment, please!" said the amazing Anthony. "There is no cause for
any further excitement, any further speculation. The thing has gone too
far now; it has passed beyond me and--I have failed."

"What?" Robert rasped.

Anthony drew a deep breath.

"Will you all be seated?" he asked. "I--I wish to confess the truth!"

"You mean that you----" Dalton exploded.

"I mean that nobody has been injured, to the best of my knowledge, and
that your daughter Mary is perfectly safe," Anthony smiled sadly. "Put
the gun away, Dalton, and hear me through at least. Later on, if you
feel inclined to use it, I don't know that I shall object greatly. I
quite understand what is likely to happen to me when you have heard what
I have to tell and--in spite of that the whole affair seems to have
tangled itself so terribly that there is nothing to do but tell it!"

He himself was sitting behind the table now, and he certainly claimed
their attention. Dalton perched on the edge of a chair; Robert took one
of its arms. Beatrice seemed at first unwilling to leave the center of
the stage, but presently she, too, was seated--and Johnson Boller
shuffled to a chair and went into it quite limply, gazing at Anthony and
breathing har