"Cleland, I’ll have to tell where I stood the day that my father—killed himself." "_What!_" "Stephanie knew it. There had been a suit pending, threatening him.... For years the fear of such a thing had preyed on his mind.... I never dreamed there was any reason for him to be afraid.... But there was." He dropped his head and sat for a few moments thinking and playing with his empty pipe. Then: "Stephanie’s aunt was the Nemesis. She became obsessed with the belief that her nephew and later, Stephanie, had suffered wickedly through my father’s—conversion of trust funds." He swallowed hard and passed one hand over his eyes: "My father was a defaulter.... That woman’s patience was infernal. She never ceased her investigations. She was implacable. And she—got him. "She was dying when the case was ready. Nobody knew she was mortally ill.... I suppose my father saw disgrace staring him in the face.... He made a last effort to see her. He did see her. Stephanie was there.... Then he went away.... He had not been well. It was an overdose of morphine." Grismer leaned forward, clasping his hands on his knees and fixing his eyes on space. "The money that I inherited was considerable," he said in his soft, agreeable voice. "But after I had begun to amuse myself with it, the papers in the suit were sent to me by that dead woman’s attorneys. So," he said pleasantly, "I learned for the first time that the money belonged to Stephanie’s estate. And, of course, I transferred it to her attorneys at once.... She never told you anything of this?" "No." "No," said Grismer thoughtfully, "she couldn’t have told you without laying bare my father’s disgrace. But that is how I suddenly found myself on my uppers," he continued lightly. "Stephanie came to me in an agony of protest. She is a splendid girl, Cleland. She rather violently refused to touch a penny of the money. You should have heard what she said to her aunt’s attorneys—who now represented her. Really, Cleland, there was the devil to pay.... But that was easy. I paid him. Naturally, I couldn’t retain a penny.... So it lies there yet, accumulating interest, payable at any time to Stephanie’s order.... But she’ll never use it.... Nor shall I, Cleland.... God knows who’ll get it—some charity, I hope.... After I step out, I think Stephanie will give it to some charity for the use of little children who have missed their childhood—children like herself, Cleland." After a silence he idly struck a match, watched it burn out, dropped the cinder to the floor: "There was no question of _you_ at that time," said Grismer, lifting his eyes to Cleland’s drawn face. "And I was very desperately in love.... There seemed to be hope that Stephanie might care for me.... Then came that reckless escapade at Albany, where she was recognized by some old friends of your father and by schoolmates of her own....