"There's no good waiting for luck, Miss Bessie--" "Will Mr. Boult buy him off?" the widow interrupted. No argument weighed with her. She listened to no attempt at comfort. "I must go to Mr. Boult at once, and ask him to do it." "If you take my advice, you won't, ma'am. If you ask him ever so, he won't." "I will beg him, on my knees," the poor lady said. Deleah followed Gibbon to the landing. "Is there anything you are keeping back?" she whispered to him. "You can tell me. I am not Bessie." "The boy's been a fool--but there's nothing that can't be hushed up." Her eyes full of fear clung to his face; she was determined to hear the worst. "You must tell me," she persisted. "A couple of bills were paid over the counter; only for small amounts. Your brother did not--did not--" "You mean he took the money for himself?" How white her face was! The sound of Bessie's sighs and moans came from the sitting-room. Deleah opened another door on the landing. It was that of her mother's bedroom, but she cared nothing for that. With a hand on the boarder's arm she led him in there, and shut the door. "Bernard stole the money?" she whispered. She had no thought of herself, or of who it was she held by the arm, had forgotten that he loved her. To know the worst, and to know it at once, so that in some way her mother might be spared the knowledge, was what she wanted. She had no pity on herself, but he had pity for her--abounding, overwhelming pity; the brave little white-faced girl, who did not moan, nor fling herself about, nor talk nonsense; who had courage, who faced things. "Your brother gave the receipts all right," he said slowly, "but he omitted to enter the accounts as paid in the ledger." "And the money? What did he do with the money?" "The money is all right. The firm loses nothing." "How do you mean? Tell me." "The money was found in his room." "Who found it?" "I found it. It was only for a small amount." "And paid it in? So that they lose nothing? So that they all know that Bernard had only been careless? That he was not a thief?" "It's all right," he assured her. "There's nothing for you to worry about--now." "You are sure you are keeping nothing back? You would not deceive me? There is nothing more?" Gibbon hesitated; he was not a man who told lies; and there was something more. "It seems he made debts--debts that out of his salary it was impossible for your brother to pay." "Yes?" "But he did pay them." "He did? Then--?" "You see, Miss Deleah, they're wishful to know where he got the money from to pay with." She looked at him with knit brows anxiously for a minute, then her face cleared and a glad light was in her eyes. "Why, I can tell them!" she said, "I sent him the money to pay the debts." "It was fifty pounds--about. _You_ sent it?"