CHAPTER II.


In an instant the whole situation and his relations to it flashed
upon Paul with a terrible, but almost grotesque, completeness.
Here he was, at the outset of his career, responsible for the
wasted fortune of the daughter of a social outcast, and saddled
with her support! He now knew why Colonel Pendleton had wished to
see him; for one shameful moment he believed he also knew why he
had been content to take his proxy! The questionable character of
the whole transaction, his own carelessness, which sprang from that
very confidence and trust that Pendleton had lately extolled--what
WOULD, what COULD not be made of it! He already heard himself
abused by his opponents--perhaps, more terrible still, faintly
excused by his friends. All this was visible in his pale face and
flashing eyes as he turned them on the helpless invalid.

Colonel Pendleton received his look with the same critical, half-
curious scrutiny that had accompanied his speech. At last his face
changed slightly, a faint look of disappointment crossed his eyes,
and a sardonic smile deepened the lines of his mouth.

"There, sir," he said hurriedly, as if dismissing an unpleasant
revelation; "don't alarm yourself! Take a drink of that whiskey.
You look pale. Well; turn your eyes on those walls. You don't see
any of that money laid out here--do you? Look at me. I don't look
like a man enriched with other people's money--do I? Well, let
that content you. Every dollar of that Trust fund, Hathaway, with
all the interests and profits that have accrued to it, is SAFE!
Every cent of it is locked up in government bonds with Rothschild's