CHAPTER X.

Reluctantly enough, Lynde Pyne left the room in which the mortal remains of Godfrey Cuyler lay, after having assured Leonie of his immediate return, and went to the office where Leonard Chandler awaited him.

Upon the way, his reflections were not enviable ones. He felt quite convinced that Leonie's agitation was not the result of her grief occasioned by her grandfather's death. On the contrary, there was something behind that seemed to overshadow death, and cause her almost to forget it.

What was it? and what had Evelyn Chandler to do with it?

Those were the questions that he put to himself persistently, and to which he found no answer.

He gnawed his mustache in helpless silence, his brows drawn in a heavy frown, and decided upon the only course open to him, to wait for the assistance that time renders.

That is not an easy method, particularly to an impulsive man, but it was the only way. His humor, therefore, was not of the pleasantest when he entered the office to which he had been so imperatively summoned.

"Good-morning, Mr. Chandler!" he exclaimed rather somberly, shaking hands. "I am sorry that you were forced to wait for me, but----"

"Never mind that, sir," interrupted Chandler, not even the shadow of a smile lighting the anger in his eyes. "I want an explanation from you, sir. I understand that you furnished the bail under which that girl, Leonie Cuyler, was released from jail. Is that true, sir?"

"It is perfectly true!"

"And you did that, knowing that I wished her to remain there until she had sense enough not to decline to reveal the name of a thief?"

"Pardon me, Mr. Chandler. I am afraid I did not think of your wishes upon the subject at all. Miss Cuyler's grandfather, her only living relative, died this morning. She was as devoted to him as any own child could be, and in common humanity, if there had been no other reason, I could not have allowed her to remain there."

"What do you suppose I cared for her grandfather? That girl shall tell who the thief who robbed my house was, or I will prosecute her to the day of my death. I will spend every cent of money that I possess, but what I will find out the truth of this affair. Do you understand that, Mr. Pyne? Nothing in the shape of sentimentality shall deter me. That girl went there for the purpose of convicting the thief, and she shall do it."

The words were spoken slowly, and with an emphasis upon each that showed Lynde Pyne very clearly that his guest meant every word he uttered, and more.

Pyne raised his foot, placed it upon a chair, and leaned his arm upon his knee with greatest nonchalance.

His eyes were fixed upon Chandler's calmly, almost coldly.

"Mr. Chandler," he said, impressively, "for several years I have been your attorney. You have always followed my advice implicitly in every instance, and there has never been a time when it has been incorrect! Am I right?"

"Yes."

"Then there is reason why you should listen to me in this. Do not press this case against Miss Cuyler. If you do you may regret it to the last day of your life. Withdraw the charges you have made against her."

"But I will not. Do you suppose that I will let a matter like that rest? Never, I tell you. Leonie Cuyler shall speak, or the whole weight of my fortune shall be turned against her. I direct you now to press this thing to the last extremity. Let no stone go unturned. Move heaven and earth to----"

"Pardon me, Mr. Chandler. It is useless for me to allow you to go further. If you persist in this heartless scheme I must resign from the case. I cannot act where my client refuses to follow my directions."

Chandler lifted his eyes aghast.

"What!" he gasped. "You throw up all the business that I have put into your hands because of that girl? You must be mad! Why, man, I will ruin you!"

"If you think you can you are perfectly welcome to try, but I tell you frankly that you have not enough money in your possession to tempt me to lift a finger against Leonie Cuyler."

"And you dare to tell me this? You, the betrothed husband of my daughter!"

"I dare do anything that my conscience and my duty may dictate, Mr. Chandler, regardless of other considerations."

"Then I tell you, sir, that you shall never enter my doors again! Remember that. If you presume to call, the servants will have instructions to throw you out. And as for that Cuyler girl, I am all the more determined that she shall be forced to tell all she knows, if my entire fortune must be spent upon it. Good-morning, Mr. Pyne. I am afraid that you will discover before you are through with it that this morning's work is liable to cost you dear!"

He banged the door behind him, and for many minutes Lynde Pyne stood there looking at it intently, then he turned suddenly, with a short, mirthless laugh.

"I am afraid I have played the dickens!" he muttered. "But there seemed to be nothing else for it. He will leave no stone unturned to force this story from Leonie; she will emphatically refuse to answer, and then--well, God knows what will come after the 'and then!' There is nothing to think of now but burying that man, and getting at the bottom of these facts that threaten such danger to Leonie."

"Mr. Davidge is here to see you, sir!" said the office-boy, at his elbow.

"Tell him that I am out! That I have gone over to the courtroom about a case that I have on. Tell him anything that comes into your head, but don't let me be interrupted again to-day. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

The boy had scarcely closed the door behind him than Pyne leaped to his feet.

"I must go and see about that funeral!" he exclaimed to himself. "That poor child is there all alone, except for that ignorant mob. What a relief it is to think that old Chandler broke that engage---- Bah! that savored very strongly of cowardice and almost dishonor; but somehow I can't help feeling that I am ten years younger."