Captain Pott's Minister Part 40

At the end of the first line the letters began to dance before her eyes, and to crowd into one another. Elizabeth turned to her brother, wild-eyed.

"Harold, this is false! Tell me it is false!"

"I wish to G.o.d it were, Bets. But you must keep your feelings under better control if you are to help me out of this miserable state of affairs."

"You know it is false!" she implored. "I shall tell everybody it's a lie! No one can know him and believe that."

"You must remember that this all happened years ago, before you and I were born."

"But, his life now! Oh, Harold, you don't believe this! Tell me it isn't true!"

"I've been almost sweating blood over it since I discovered the truth.

I've tried to find some other explanation or solution, but there is none other. Father is guilty of the crime for which Adoniah Phillips was made to suffer. I don't know how they got hold of his true name, for he was going under an a.s.sumed one over there. But they did, and the worst of it is, the old trader's wife is here in the city right now. She is on Father's track. I've been staving her off, but she smells a rat in the fact that I bear his name, and I can't hold her much longer from locating him."

"No! No! You shall not tell me that Father is a criminal! You must take back that awful word about him!"

Harold groaned, and settled back into his chair. The girl fell back into hers, and covered her face with trembling hands. She sprang suddenly to her feet and to her brother's side.

"Father was never in Australia! He made his money trading in Africa.

We've heard him say that many times, and I believe him. I shall not believe those papers. They are blackmail."

"Then, I must go on alone. My temptation was to cover this up, but, Bets, I can't. I had hoped that you'd go through it with me, for it's going to be a mighty dirty mess to clean up. But if you persist in believing Father's story instead of mine----"

"I do believe you, too! But can't there be some mistake?"

"If there had been the slightest chance I should have discovered it before now, but there isn't. It is G.o.d's truth. All these years Father has been safe only because Adoniah Phillips refused years ago to disclose his ident.i.ty. It's awful, Sis, but true."

"It's too awful to be true! It seems like a horrible dream."

"You have no idea what agony it has cost me. Do you think you can go through it with me?"

"I'll try, Harold. But, oh, it's hard!"

"Yes."

"Don't you think that Father might clear the whole matter up if we should tell him all we know? Maybe he could explain things----"

"That was the first thought that occurred to me. But the longer I worked on the case, and the more I discovered of the truth, the more impossible I saw that to be. I'm not so sure that we'd want him to save his skin, anyway. He ought to face the music for his wrong just the same as any other man."

Elizabeth did not once take her gaze from her brother's face, while she spoke slowly and distinctly: "Father will not be afraid to face the truth, even though it may mean financial ruin. He is brave, and he is honest now. I shall tell him all."

"Don't be too hasty, Bets. I admire your s.p.u.n.k. But answer me this: did it strike you as strange the way Father acted that night when I announced my contemplated trip to Australia to look up Phillips?"

She nodded ever so slightly.

"And did it strike you as strange the way he treated Mr. McGowan when he offered to help him to his room?"

"But why do you bring Mr. McGowan into this?"

"Bets, if I had known one grain of the truth that night I'd have flatly refused the appointment to this case at the risk of losing my position in the firm. Father was afraid that night. Here is one more paper I wish you to read. I had it copied in Washington last week."

Elizabeth unfolded the paper, and read: "Be it known that one Adoniah Phillips, after due application, and upon his own request, for reasons herein stated, is authorized to change his name to----"

The paper fell to the floor. The room began to swim. The furniture violently rocked. Elizabeth reached out and clutched her brother's arm.

"Mack McGowan!" she whispered faintly. "Oh, what am I saying? Why am I saying that name? What has happened to me?"

"Poor little girl! I thought my little sister was stronger than that.

I've been a fool for letting you read all those papers after the strain you've been through."

"Mack McGowan!" she repeated. She seized the paper which her brother had lifted from the floor. "Oh, it's in that paper, and it's _his_ name!

Harold, what does it mean?"

"You must brace up, Beth. The man you are in love with is the son of Adoniah Phillips. He bears his father's new name."

She was suddenly weary. She felt just one desire: to get back home. She took Harold's arm and led him toward the door.

"I want to go home, and I need you to drive the car."

CHAPTER XVII

During the homeward trip Elizabeth was as one in a stupor. When they reached the brow of the hill above the village, Harold stopped the car.

Elizabeth half turned about in her seat, resting her elbow on the back above and lifting her hand to her eyes to shade them from the light. She gazed upon the glory of the western sky where the sun was dropping into a bed of gold, lavishly splashing the low-hanging clouds with a radiance that seemed to drip from their edges. A shock suddenly brought her back to reality with a pain at her heart. Silhouetted against the gold of the sky-line, his head bared, his shoulders thrown back, was a tall figure: the son of Adoniah Phillips!

"That's a good view for sore hearts, Bets," commented her brother.

She caught her breath in quick gasps. "Yes. But, oh, Harold, it's so hard!"

"I know," he agreed, taking her hand. "Have you thought out a line of action? Where shall we begin?"

The girl did not answer. Harold followed with his eyes the direction of her gaze. His hand tightened in hers. The minister had just recognized them, and was waving his cap high over his head in welcome. Elizabeth lifted her handkerchief and permitted the light breeze to flutter it.

Harold answered with a swing of his arm. Mr. McGowan started toward them.

"Drive me home, Harold. I can't see him now."

"But, Sis, this may be our only time together. Tell me what to do. I'm lost. I don't know which way to turn."

"I must see Uncle Josiah first. He has had time to think a lot, and he may know how to help us. I'm going to his place to-night."

"By George! You're right. I hadn't thought of going to him. He does know something about this. He was in my office the other day, and asked a host of questions. He'll help us if he can. Why not stop there now?"

"Not now. I'm not decent to see any one, or be seen. Please, take me home."

He threw in the clutch and the car shot down the hill, past a curious crowd in front of the general store, and on up the knoll into the Fox estate.