“But I don’t know anything about a check! I never wrote a check!” The actor turned to me pleadingly. Rice snorted impatiently. “There’s a mistake,” the actor wailed weakly. “I never wrote that check. Why should I?” “To get money so you could run off to Europe!” “But I didn’t need that money!” “So you admit,” Rice was triumphantly inquisitorial, “that you were running off to Europe with this girl in New York!” “And what if I was?” demanded the actor. “There’s nothing wrong in that. I was sick to death of this place. I didn’t want to marry Mrs. Breese!” “Just a minute,” Smith intervened. “You say, Mr. Thomas, that you were making plans to go to Europe. Where did you expect to get the money for your trip?” The actor paused, looked at Smith and then, truculently: “Mrs. Breese was giving it to me.” “That’s news to me,” snapped Rice. “And I’m her business adviser. I’d know if she was going to give you money.” “Just why,” Smith demanded, “should Mrs. Breese give you that money? I think I ought to warn you, Mr. Thomas, that frankness may save you a lot of trouble at this time.” Thomas glared sullenly at Rice. “I’ve got nothing to hide,” he said. “I was getting tired of hanging around here where everybody looked on me as a poor relation. I told Mrs. Breese I wanted to get out. I said I needed some money, and she said she’d give it to me.” “A very generous woman,” said Smith. “Well, I stuck to her during the trial!” Thomas defended himself. “I had letters she wrote me that would have looked very bad. I played square with her and she appreciated it. She offered to settle twenty-five thousand dollars on me when I left here.” “When did she decide to do that?” demanded Smith. “Tonight--after dinner. She was very nice about it, too. I told her about Miss Saunders, and she wished me luck! I guess I’ve got nothing to hide. You can’t do anything to me. I’ve played square.” His voice rose righteously. Rice laughed. “That’s a swell defence,” he said. “You didn’t forget the check. You were blackmailing her. Well, as a matter of fact, Mr. Wilkins at the National City Bank can testify to the check. He spotted it.” He turned on Smith. “I’ve had enough of this nasty business. I can’t stand here looking at him much longer. I’ll be upstairs with the children if you should want me.” Rice left us, and we could hear his heavy footsteps stamping up the stairs. After a pause, Smith said quietly: “Well, Mr. Thomas, what have you got to say for yourself?” “Nothing!” rasped the actor. “Nothing!” “Do you deny that you forged that check?” demanded Smith. “I don’t know anything about a check,” Thomas shouted. “I’ve told you, haven’t I?” “Do you expect me to believe, Mr. Thomas, that Mrs. Breese voluntarily and cheerfully offered to pay you money so you could marry this Miss Saunders?” “I don’t care what you believe.”