"Wait until you have heard the facts. Last week, on Friday, there was entrusted to my son's care for delivery a heavy manila envelope containing fifty thousand dollars' worth of negotiable bonds. It was a matter of vital importance that these be delivered within a specified time. Ignoring this fact, he pocketed the bonds, and, in company with a number of his acquaintances, indulged in a drunken spree which culminated after midnight in a disgraceful street scene in the Broadway theatre district. "The following morning, when I confronted him, he flouted me to my face, whereupon I virtually disinherited him. Not wishing to turn him away penniless, I handed him a check for a considerable amount which he saw fit to destroy melodramatically in my presence. Upon my request for the return of the securities, he handed me an envelope identical with that in which the bonds had been placed. I carried the packet to the bank where it was opened and found to contain not the bonds--but those letters. "To avoid a scandal I made good the loss. I learned later, through investigation, that upon leaving home he came directly to this house, where he remained for upward of a half-hour. "Further than this I know nothing of his movements except that he reentered the taxi and proceeded down-town. At Thirty-Fourth Street, where the chauffeur slowed down for instructions, he found the cab empty." "And _these_ are the facts upon which you base your accusation?" asked the girl coldly. "You, his own father!" "To an unbiased mind the evidence allows but one interpretation." "But his eyes! Oh, can't you see there has been some mistake? His eyes are not the eyes of a thief!" "There has been no mistake. A most thorough search of the premises has failed to disclose a trace of the missing securities. In his desk from which he took the substituted packet were found several similar envelopes, but these contained only worthless rubbish--newspaper clippings of sporting events and the like. "No, Miss Ethel, when William Carmody left my house that morning he carried with him those bonds. And he came here, knowing that he was a thief, with his pocket bulging with plunder! "As I told you, I know nothing of the relations existing between you and my son. I only hope that he has gone forever out of your life, as he has gone out of mine." The light died out of the girl's eyes and her voice sounded strangely dull as she replied: "Yes, he has gone out of my life--maybe forever. He came to me here, to tell me that he was going away to make good. And I--I was not big enough to see it. I sent him away with a sneer. Bill is no thief. For what he has been you are to blame--you and the Carmody money. For the first time in his life he has a fair chance. He has left New York the man you made him. He will return the man he makes himself. Oh! If--if I only----" "There, there, Miss Ethel, your loyalty is admirable, if misplaced----"