“Perhaps, your information is incorrect?  You know how easy it is to get up a slander, and such women are—­not to be believed.  They always pretend that they have been deceived.”

“She was not one of ‘such women,’” said Keith, calmly.  “She was a perfectly respectable woman, and the granddaughter of an old friend of mine.”

“Well, perhaps, you may have been misinformed?”

“No; I have the evidence that Wickersham married her—­and—­”

“Oh, come now—­that is absurd!  Ferdy married!  Why, Ferdy never cared enough for any one to marry her—­unless she had money.  He has paid attention to a rich woman, but—­You must not strain my credulity too far.  I really thought you had something to show against him.  Of course, I know he is not a saint,—­in fact, very far from it,—­but he does not pretend to be.  But, at least, he is not a hypocrite.”

“He is a hypocrite and a scoundrel,” declared Keith, firmly.  “He is married, and his wife is living now.  He abandoned her, and she is insane.  I know her.”

“You know her!  Ferdy married!” She paused in wonder.  His certainty carried conviction with it.

“I have his marriage certificate.”

“You have?” A sort of amaze passed over her face.

He took out the paper and gave it to her.  She gazed at it with staring eyes.  “That is his hand.”  She rose with a blank face, and walked to the window; then, after a moment, came back and sat down.  She had the expression of a person lost.  “Tell me about it.”

Keith told her.  He also told her of Norman’s losses.

Again that look of amazement crossed her face; her eyes became almost blank.

“Norman’s fortune impaired!  I cannot understand it—­he told me—­Oh, there must be some mistake!” she broke out vehemently.  “You are deceiving me.  No!  I don’t mean that, of course,—­I know you would not,—­but you have been deceived yourself.”  Her face was a sudden white.

Keith shook his head.  “No!”

“Why, look here.  He cannot be hard up.  He has kept up my allowance and met every demand—­almost every demand—­I have made on him.”  She was grasping at straws.

“And Ferdy Wickersham has spent it in Wall Street.”

“What!  No, he has not!  There, at least, you do him an injustice.  What he has got from me he has invested securely.  I have all the papers—­at least, some of them.”

“How has he invested it?”

“Partly in a mine called the ‘Great Gun Mine,’ in New Leeds.  Partly in Colorado.—­I can help Norman with it.”  Her face brightened as the thought came to her.

Keith shook his head.

“The Great Gun Mine is a fraud—­at least, it is worthless, not worth five cents on the dollar of what has been put in it.  It was flooded years ago.  Wickersham has used it as a mask for his gambling operations in Wall Street, but has not put a dollar into it for years; and now he does not even own it.  His creditors have it.”