His voice trailed off because Uncle Arthur too had sprung to his feet and was pacing the room. Henry's arguments, his earnestness and young energy, something, was telling on him. Finally he turned and said, in that same quiet voice:--
'All right, Henry. I'll run out to-morrow and put this thing through for you. But----'
'Oh, no, Uncle Arthur! You mustn't do that! Not to-morrow! Charlie'd get wise. Or some of that gang. Everybody in town'd know you were there. No, _that_ wouldn't do!'
Uncle Arthur took another turn about the room.
'Just what is it that you want, Henry?' he asked, in that same quiet voice.
'Why, let's see! You'd better give me two thousand in one cheque and one thousand in another. Mr Davis can fix it so your cheque doesn't go to Charlie. I don't want to put it in the bank. Charlie's crowd'd get on. But I'll fix it. Mr Davis'll know.'
At the door Uncle Arthur looked severely at the dapper, excited youth on the steps.
'It may make a man of you. It will certainly throw you on your own resources. I shall have to trust you to release me formally from all responsibility after your birthday. And'--sharply--'understand, you are never to come to me for help. You have your chance. You have chosen your path.'
Eleven at night. The Country Club was bright; Henry passed it on the farther side of the street. He could hear music and laughter there. They choked him. With averted face he rushed by.
Henry entered at the gate before the old Dexter Smith mansion; then slipped off among the trees.
His throat was dry. He was giddy and hot about the head. He wondered, miserably, if he had a fever. Very likely.
Some one calling, perhaps--that friend of James B. Merchant's.
It was too late to call. Yet he had had to come, had been drawn irresistibly to the spot.
What mattered it after all, who might be calling. He told himself that his life was to be, hereafter, one of sorrow, of frustration. He must be dignified about it. He must make it a life worthy of his love and his great sacrifice.
A man and a woman came down the steps. An elderly couple. He stood very still, behind a tree, while they walked past him.
A sign of uncontrollable relief escaped him. It was something. Cicely had at last spared him a stab.