The girl was not willing to see Graham depart without further discussion. Eunice stopped the young man at the door, and quietly demanded a reconsideration of his decision. This increased Graham’s misery; it did not, however, change his notion. Firmly, Graham repeated that he was leaving Southwark.
The front door opened while Graham was still insisting that nothing could change his mind. Ralph Delkin appeared. At sight of her father, Eunice decided that she had found an ally. She turned to Delkin and blurted forth the news.
“Graham wants to leave, father!” exclaimed the girl. “He says that he can no longer remain in Southwark. He will not tell me why.”
“I know the reason,” returned Delkin calmly. “Graham - I should like to talk with you for a few minutes - in here -“
Delkin indicated the living room.
GRAHAM turned from the steps. He knew that Delkin had discovered the notes in his safe. Eunice followed the two men into the living room. Ralph Delkin turned to bid his daughter to leave. Graham Wellerton shook his head in resignation.
“Let Eunice remain,” he asserted. “She may as well know the truth - now that you have learned it.”
Ralph Delkin nodded. He was serious as he noted the resignation in Graham’s tone. Reluctantly, the manufacturer drew the clipped papers from his pocket and held them out for Graham to see.
“You placed these in my safe?” he questioned.
Graham nodded.
“How did you get them?” quizzed Delkin.
“I broke into my uncle’s bank,” declared Graham. “I blew open his safe. I found the notes and took them. I knew the combination of your safe, and opened it to place the notes there.”
“I thought that the burglars blew the safe,” said Delkin in a puzzled tone. “That was Sheriff Taussig’s decision - a most logical one. The sheriff said that they must have lacked sufficient explosive to blow the vault. How could you have blown the safe? You were wounded -“
“I went there early in the evening,” explained Graham, in a dull tone. “I came back afterward to see if an alarm had been given. That was when I discovered burglars torturing my uncle.”
Ralph Delkin began to understand.
He nodded as he looked at the notes in his hand. He seemed at a loss. At last, he spoke in a sincere tone.
“You did wrong, Graham,” he said. “Nevertheless, your motive was excusable. Still, these notes do not belong to me. If your uncle were still alive, I would be forced to return them to him. Now that he is dead, I must declare them to his estate.”
“I thought so,” returned Graham. “That is why I decided that I would leave town - one reason why, at least. I knew that you would not want to incriminate me - so I felt that it would be best to leave you free to act as you desired.”
Regretful in tone, Graham unconsciously turned toward Eunice. The girl approached and laid her hand upon his arm. There was no reproach in her voice.
“Graham,” she said, “you did wrong. Father and I could not accept a favor of this sort. But we can find a way to arrange matters without your leaving Southwark. No one will know of this but father and myself. We shall remember only the intention - not the deed.”
The girl’s gentle persuasion was almost irresistible. Graham Wellerton felt the mad desire to say nothing more - to accept these terms without a comment. Then came a wave of remorse; the knowledge that Eunice knew nothing of his past. What right had he, a despicable crook, to further prey upon the sincere friendship of this girl and her father?
There was only one way out - a complete confession. With surging thoughts, Graham Wellerton broke forth with a complete denunciation of his evil past.
“I’LL tell you why I’m leaving Southwark,” he declared bitterly. “I’m leaving because I’m a crook. I’ve been a bank robber. Those men who were torturing my uncle were once members of my mob. I belong in prison - not in the home of respectable people.
“I’m not going to jail. That would be futile. Nor am I staying here; that would be unfair. There are only two people living who could prove my past guilt” - Graham’s face hardened as he thought of Wolf Daggert and Carma Urstead - “and if I can dodge them, I can go straight.
“That’s why I’m leaving here, so that I can try to live right. But I’d never impose upon such fine people as you. I know you think I’m scum” - Graham was observing the expression of disapproval on Ralph Delkin’s face - “and that’s why I’m glad I’ve told you everything. I don’t deserve your friendship. That’s all.”
Graham could see that his words had had full effect upon Delkin. The honest manufacturer had drawn away, apparently alarmed by Graham’s presence. If that was the way Delkin felt, Graham decided, how much more disdainful would Eunice be! With that thought, Graham turned toward the girl. He stood dumfounded, as he gazed into her eyes.
Eunice was pale, but her face had lost none of its kindliness. With a forgiving smile, the girl looked directly into Graham’s eyes and gave her answer to his self-accusation.
“The past does not matter, Graham,” she said. “This is the present and the future lies ahead. You are honest. You have told the truth. You desire to live a straightforward life; begin it here, in Southwark, with friends who understand.”
His daughter’s confidence caused Ralph Delkin to change his attitude. He seemed to lose his temporary aloofness. Although he did not speak, Delkin nodded, to show that he would second his daughter’s invitation.
“I appreciate this, Eunice,” gulped Graham. “I’ll never forget this friendship. But I had better go - away - on my own. I need a little money - that’s all -“
Ralph Delkin pulled a roll of bills from his pocket and proffered the cash. Eunice began an objection as Graham took the money.
“Graham must not leave us, father!” she exclaimed. “It is not right - he needs us more now than ever.”
“I’m leaving,” announced Graham quietly.
Ralph Delkin found himself in the position of mediator. Abashed at his own lack of confidence, the manufacturer was ready to add his pleas to those of his daughter. Graham, his heart burning, broke forth in a new effort to make himself appear worthless.
“There are people who know what I have done,” he asserted. “Two people - one a crook - the other a woman - my wife. Yes - my wife. She is living in New York, under her maiden name, Carma Urstead. She will cause trouble if she knows I am here. She has always caused me trouble.”
A gleam of understanding flashed in Eunice Delkin’s eyes. The girl’s intuition prompted her to put a pointed question.
“This woman who has caused you trouble,” queried Eunice. “Was she the person who forced you into crime?”
GRAHAM did not reply. Looking at his face, however, Eunice knew that she had struck the truth. Graham saw that further words would only prompt Eunice to again urge her father to make Graham stay in Southwark. Quickly, the young man turned to Ralph Delkin.
“You can understand,” said Graham. “You see why I must leave. All I ask is that my confidence be kept.”
“Yes,” agreed Delkin. “You had better go.”
Swinging, Graham walked past Eunice, The girl turned to call to him. Her father stopped her. Graham hurried upstairs and packed. When he came down, he found Eunice, pale and worried, standing beside her father.
“I shall drive you to the station,” declared Delkin. “Eunice has consented to your departure.”
Graham could see that the girl had been reluctant. Only her confidence in her father’s judgment could possibly have made her come to this agreement.
As Graham walked toward the door, Eunice extended her hand. As Graham received it, he could see true sympathy and lasting friendship in the tear-dimmed eyes that looked toward him.
“We must start,” declared Delkin.
Eunice was standing at the door when Graham looked back from the departing car. Graham Wellerton caught one last glance, and his heart filled with admiration for the wonderful spirit of the girl who had been his true fri
end.
Graham did not speak to Delkin as they rode along. There was nothing to be said. The pair arrived at the station. Graham alighted and took his bag. Silently he extended his hand in farewell. He noticed that Ralph Delkin was looking beyond him. Graham turned.
Coming from a car which had swung up to the station was Sheriff Ellis Taussig. The official was making directly for Graham Wellerton. Taussig’s gruff voice blurted forth before Graham could speak.
“Where you going, young fellow?”
“Just leaving town,” responded Graham quietly.
“Not yet,” chuckled Taussig. “You’re coming up to Harwin Dowser’s office, along with me.”
“What for?”
“You’ll find out,” responded the sheriff. “Say, Delkin - have you got time to drive us up there? You’re a friend of Wellerton’s -“
Graham saw Ralph Delkin nod. At the sheriff’s urge, Graham entered the car. As they rode along the street, he wondered what had happened. Had Wolf Daggert been caught? Had the yellow gangster lingered long enough to catch a glimpse of Graham and denounce him as a crook?
Graham worried; then, with calm indifference, he waited the outcome of this unexpected event which had interrupted his much-desired departure from the town of Southwark.
CHAPTER XVII
MISGAINED MILLIONS
HARWIN DOWSER’S office was located in a building near the Southwark courthouse. As Graham Wellerton and his companions climbed the stairs to the lawyer’s headquarters, the reformed crook felt more than ever that he was about to encounter the unexpected.
Of all the men whom he had met in Southwark, Dowser had impressed Graham as the most sanguine. The lawyer, a political figure in this county, possessed unusual qualifications. Where Ezra Talboy had accumulated wealth by usurious practices, where Ralph Delkin had gained much by straightforward business dealings, Harwin Dowser had reached a state of importance by practically monopolizing legal affairs in this vicinity.
The adviser of every person of prominence, a man whose influence had direct effect even upon old Justice Schuble’s decisions, Dowser was one whose friendship could be powerful, and whose enmity could be a tremendous obstacle. Even now, it seemed as though Sheriff Taussig was no more than Dowser’s errand boy.
In fact, the sheriff’s presence and behavior were most unusual. If the man had come to arrest Graham, why had he not done so? If nothing but a private conference between Graham and Dowser was the matter at stake, why had the sheriff been deputed as the lawyer’s messenger?
Considering these questions, Graham entered the office and found himself face to face with Harwin Dowser. The elderly lawyer, sharp-featured and keen-eyed, arose to receive the young man with an air of gravity. Solemn as a British barrister, Dowser waved Graham and the other visitors to chairs.
“Graham Wellerton,” announced the attorney, “you are the nephew of Ezra Talboy, deceased. As legal representative for your late uncle, I have important matters to discuss with you. The presence of these other witnesses is not material. My words will be brief, and there is no reason why others should not hear them.”
GRAHAM sensed at once that Ezra Talboy, before he died, must have held a conference with Harwin Dowser. He realized that the lawyer was about to make a revelation. The presence of the sheriff became ominous.
If Dowser intended to brand Graham Wellerton as a crook, Ellis Taussig, the bluff representative of the county law, would lose no time in leaping to action.
“Ezra Talboy,” announced Dowser, “was a peculiar man. I state that as a simple fact. His will, which he made many years ago, was a most unusual document, in that it made no provisions for any person who bore a relationship to Ezra Talboy, nor did it include any philanthropic clauses.”
Graham Wellerton smiled sourly. This reference gave a plain analysis of his uncle’s mean and avaricious tendencies. Graham could picture Ezra Talboy, alive in the past, worrying over the disposal of his ill-gotten gains.
“Before his death,” continued Dowser, “Ezra Talboy called for me. At his request, I brought his will. At his order, I destroyed the document. In its place, I prepared a new and simple will which states all of Ezra Talboy’s final bequeathment in a single clause.
“Ezra Talboy’s entire estate, freed from any other provisions, is left to his nephew, Graham Wellerton. Young man” - Dowser extended his hand - “I congratulate you as the recipient of a fortune which may be conservatively estimated at ten million dollars!”
Graham Wellerton was staggered. This unexpected turn came to him with the suddenness of a blow. He stared at the other men in the room, observed the solemnity of their faces, and wondered if he were in a trance. Then, as his senses became composed, a horrible doubt swept over him.
Ten million dollars.
How had Ezra Talboy accumulated that sum? There was but one answer. The old skinflint had wrenched his wealth from suffering men. Among those millions was Graham Wellerton’s own patrimony - money that should have come to him from his father - but with it were other sums that rightfully belonged to other persons. Forgotten men, who could never now be located, were the real owners of those usurped millions!
Graham looked toward Ralph Delkin. He caught a cold expression upon the manufacturer’s face. He knew what Delkin was thinking. Had Ezra Talboy had his way, Delkin’s factory would be part of those ill-gotten assets. Graham realized that in his own pocket he had money that he owed to Delkin. He recalled the discussion at Delkin’s home, when he, Graham Wellerton, had announced his intention of going straight.
Would it be straight to take these millions? No. He had branded his own uncle as a crook worse than himself. A man who took money gained by evil measures was lower than a thief. As Graham looked at Ralph Delkin, he thought of Eunice.
What would she think of this turn in Graham’s fortunes? Graham knew. He realized that if he profited by his uncle’s death, the girl would at last have cause to regard him with contempt.
Then came a flare of hatred - a survival of the past. Graham understood why his uncle had left him this money. It was not through gratitude for Graham’s attempt to save his life. It was because Ezra Talboy had gained fiendish delight in the fact that he had found his nephew to be a crook.
With Ezra Talboy, possession of wealth had been an outlet for evil. Dying, the old man had gained a wicked joy to know that he could place his entire fortunes in the hands of a nephew whom he considered as evil as himself.
That burning thought, together with Graham’s regard for Eunice Delkin, caused the young man to make an astounding decision.
“Ten million dollars,” pondered Graham aloud. “A great deal of money, gentlemen. The amount, however, is quite immaterial. My uncle had the privilege of leaving his money to me. I, in turn, have the privilege of refusing it. Since he bequeathed it without proviso, I shall reject it in the same spirit.”
GASPS of amazement came from the other men. Even Ralph Delkin seemed astonished. Graham Wellerton smiled wearily and glanced at his watch as he turned to Sheriff Taussig.
“I thank you for your trouble, sheriff,” he said. “Unfortunately, you have caused me to miss my train. That involves the necessity of my remaining in Southwark a few hours longer.”
“One moment, Wellerton,” insisted Harwin Dowser sharply, as Graham was turning toward the door. “Are you serious about this matter?”
“Why should I be otherwise?” retorted Graham.
“Because,” declared Dowser, “this plan - if you go through with it - will cause many complications. As administrator of the estate, I shall have many problems with which to deal.”
“You can’t force the money on me, can you?”
“I cannot do anything else with it.”
“How does that concern me?”
“In various ways,” decided Dowser. “For instance - are you married?”
The abruptness of the question startled Graham. He was on the point of giving an affirmative reply; then, as Dowser eyed him keenly, he to
ok an evasive course.
“Suppose I did happen to be married,” he said thoughtfully. “Would my wife have the right to a share in my estate?”
“She would have cause for objection,” stated Dowser, “if you refused the bequest. Moreover, if the money should be held in trust, or administered in your behalf, she would be entitled to a share, at least, in the event of your death.”
“Hm-m-m,” responded Wellerton. “Marriage is an odd thing, isn’t it? I’ve often considered matrimony. It’s a problem. You see, gentlemen” - he paused to look at Delkin and Taussig - “the thought of possessing great wealth annoys me. I had intended to tramp around a bit - perhaps as a vagrant.”
Graham smiled as he made this subtle reference to his homecoming in the town of Southwark.
“However,” added Graham, “the problem of marriage brings me to a dilemma. What would you do” - Graham was looking directly at Delkin as he spoke - “if you were in my circumstances?”
THE question was an excellent one, in consideration of the facts which Delkin knew about Graham, as told today. Indeed, Graham’s mention of Carma had placed Delkin in full knowledge of the most important fact. Graham waited patiently for the manufacturer’s answer. It came.
“I should accept the legacy,” announced Delkin.
Sheriff Taussig muttered an agreement.
It was Delkin’s decision alone that decided Graham. The manufacturer would tell the entire story to his daughter, Graham felt sure. Eunice would know how Graham had deliberately refused to accept tainted millions; then had changed his decision due to circumstances which involved the woman who had forced him into crime. Moreover, Delkin would mention that Graham had left the question up to him.
Graham Wellerton turned to Harwin Dowser and stared squarely into the old lawyer’s shrewd face. Graham’s mind was thinking quickly. The young man realized that, with wealth, he could do good to balance the evil committed by his uncle.
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