But he was glad that it happened to be in full blast, as he would have expressed it, and the throng of shoppers had no time to notice him. Moses took him up in an elevator that was designated as “for employees only.” He made some ado, too, about moving aside a basketful of empty bottles to make room for his passenger. Mr. Carter shoved the basket with his foot. “What’s that?” he asked sharply. Moses looked plaintive. “Ain’t had no time to pitch ’em outen heah, suh. Dey’s from Mist’ Wilyum’s room.” Mr. Carter restrained an impulse to count the bottles, and said nothing. At the eighth floor he got out and walked reluctantly across the hall to his son’s door. He opened it without knocking and looked in. William was seated at his desk, his arms hanging down at his sides and his eyes fixed on the wall opposite. There was no indication of intemperance unless it lay in the deathly pallor and the disheveled hair. Mr. Carter strode over to the table and struck it loudly with his fist to call attention to his presence. “We’d be honored if you’d come home,” he said dryly. “You’ve nothing to fear there--she’s cleared out.” William raised his haggard eyes. “How about Leigh? I haven’t seen Dan for days.” “Dan’s trying to save his brother from”--Mr. Carter’s voice grew suddenly hoarse--“from eighteen years’ imprisonment.” “Good Lord!” cried William aghast. “They couldn’t do that--he’s nothing but a kid!” Mr. Carter walked over to the windows and shut and fastened them; then he picked up his son’s hat and handed it to him. “You come home with me,” was all he said. William went. His adoring mother received him like the returned prodigal, and Emily waited on him with eyes red from weeping. No one mentioned Fanchon; the family seemed to have resolved to let her drop out of sight forever. With Daniel’s aid, William managed to see Leigh that night for the first time since the shooting. It was a moment of horrible embarrassment and humiliation for William. He was shocked, too, at the sight of the boy’s white face and the dark rings under his girlish eyes. Leigh had gone through deep waters on his account, yet it was one of those things that cannot be talked about. “My job, Leigh,” he said laconically. “You had no business to take it away from me.” Leigh blushed like a girl. “I couldn’t hear Fanchon slandered like that,” he cried. “I had to do it!” William bowed his head, looking down at the floor of the cell. He hadn’t the heart to tell the boy that he believed the slanders. Curiously enough, under Leigh’s clear eyes, he felt ashamed of believing in them; but his inveterate rage against his wife remained undiminished. She had deceived him, he no longer believed in her, and he was furious against her for the ruin she had wrought. The very fact that he had been head over ears in love with her embittered him the more. It was an intolerable humiliation.