"But then how would that loathsome Mr. Ives have known that he was
going, unless Ban betrayed him?"
"Easily enough," returned the veteran. "He had a report from his
detectives, who had been watching Enderby for months.... Mrs. Eyre, I
wish you'd give me a drink. I feel shaky."
She left him to give the order. When she returned, they had both
steadied down. Carefully, and with growing conviction, they gathered the
evidence into something like a coherent whole. At the end, Io moaned:
"The one thing I can't bear is that Cousin Billy died, believing that of
Ban."
She threw herself upon the broad lounge, prone, her face buried in her
arms. The veteran of hundreds of fights, brave and blind, righteous and
mistaken, crowned with fleeting victories, tainted with irremediable
errors, stood silent, perplexed, mournful. He walked slowly over to
where the girl was stretched, and laid a clumsy, comforting hand on her
shoulder.
"I wish you'd cry for me, too," he said huskily. "I'm too old."
CHAPTER XXI
Every Saturday the distinguished physician from Angelica City came to
Manzanita on the afternoon train, spent two or three hours at Camilla
Van Arsdale's camp, and returned in time to catch Number Seven back. No
imaginable fee would have induced him to abstract one whole day from his
enormous practice for any other patient.
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