He ain't making any excuses for 'isself--not
a bit of it. He says he's a scoundrel."
David sat down limply, stunned by the news of Tom Braddock's
depravity.
"But if he is sober and in his right senses, he must feel the most
poignant remorse after that one terrible act," cried the young man.
"He surely must know that she did not fall into the trap--that she
actually fled to escape it. He knows all this, Joey. I think he loved
her--in his way. I know he loved Christine. We must get at him from
that side--the side of his love for the girl, the side of fairness. If
he feels remorse, as you say, all is not lost to him. Where can we
find him to-day, Joey? To-morrow may be too late."
"Wot does Dick say?" asked the old clown, puffing at his pipe. His
calmness served its purpose. David stared and then relaxed.
"To tell you the truth, I'd forgotten Dick. Before we parted
yesterday, it was understood between us that I was to do nothing until
I had heard from him. He promised to find Braddock and report to me--
by letter. Of course, he did not know that you had seen him, or he
would have come last night to talk it over with you in--"
Joey held up his hand and shook his head.
Pages:
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403