He wanted to
get rid of the wretched misunderstanding that lay between them. If
he were to leave the country that night never to return, he would
want to feel that he had parted on good terms with the woman who
had befriended him.
Promptly at eight o'clock he presented himself.
"I'm a laboring man now," he said, as he stood before her, "and I
usually hold my cap in my hand and shuffle my feet when talking to
ladies. Pray excuse my embarrassment."
She did not respond to the lightness of his tone. Her glance
seemed intended to warn him that she meant to be serious.
"I suppose you are wondering why I sent for you," she remarked,
after a perceptible interval, and Kirk felt instantly that their
old relations could not at once be resumed. "I have discovered
something very important, and I felt that you ought to know."
"Thank you," said Kirk, humbly. "It was very kind."
"You see," she went on, with a certain hesitancy, "you confided
your story to me so frankly I felt under a certain obligation."
She made a little dramatic pause. "I've discovered who Jefferson
Locke is!"
"No! Who is he?" Kirk was instantly all attention, for the
announcement came as something of a shock. He had almost forgotten
Locke.
"His real name is Frank Wellar, and he is an absconder.
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