"Not in quality, so much as in quantity, if you know what I mean. I know what he’s capable of, what he has done, and what he can do. I don’t feel any anger or resentment, for what I know, now, that he has done. I feel only pity and sorrow for him." "But what _has_ he done? That’s just what I want to know. You mean that it was something definite?" "Yes." "And—you believed it of him?" Fancy could not restrain her surprise. "I had to believe it. Oh, Fancy, don’t you understand? It was the sort of thing that no woman could forget. It was of no importance except as showing that he wasn’t so far along as I had thought. It merely means that I’ll have to wait for him. And I shall wait for him. I’m so sure of him that I can wait, though it hurt so at first that I couldn’t possibly see him. That’s all." Fancy bit her lip. There was a little, determined shake of her head that Clytie did not see. "Miss Payson," she said, "you must tell me what it was. I’ve heard Professor Vixley say a thing or two that aroused my suspicions." She went on slowly, with an effort. "I know that Frank adores you—that he has, ever since that night you came with him to his office, after his accident." "Oh, but this was after that," Clytie said wearily. "It was something he told Vixley." "After that! Why, Frank hasn’t had anything to do with Vixley or Madam Spoll since then, except to try to get them to leave your father alone." "I saw his own handwriting, Fancy; the very notes of what I had talked about to him—even the little intimate things—they nearly killed me. And Professor Vixley told me himself that Frank had been giving him information right along, up to only a few weeks ago—while we had been so happy together—oh, to think of it!" Fancy’s face had varied in phase, like the opening and shutting of the clouds. Now it was eager, rapt "Oh, I understand, now!" she cried, jumping up. "Why, Miss Payson, Vixley can no more be trusted than a gambler! Don’t you know that he’s wild with Frank? Vixley’s got it in for him; he is trying to ruin him! Don’t you know that Frank has been trying to buy him off, just to save your father from being cheated by them? Why, Frank offered Vixley a thousand dollars to leave town, only last week. Vixley told me so himself!" "A thousand dollars? That’s impossible." Clytie’s voice was still hopeless. "I can’t imagine where he got the money, but he had it with him, in cash. Vixley said so." "How long ago was that?" "Two weeks ago, about." Clytie reflected. "I saw Frank on the platform at Stockton, two weeks ago. I wonder—" "Yes, it was the day after he got back, I remember now."