Whereupon he became immediately silent and remained so until the curiosity which he had fired urged him to go on.

“When Conniston left the Half Moon and went to work in the Valley under your father”—­leaning forward, his low-toned voice again deeply confidential—­“the whole plot was laid and perfected.  He was to work there until he had learned all that Mr. Truxton could teach him, until the greater part of the work had been done, and then your father was to be discharged so that Conniston could take his place.  Yes, and so that when the work was completed—­the work which your own father had made possible—­Conniston would reap the rewards of it, take all the honors.”

He paused suddenly, and again his pale eyes, intent upon the girl’s face, were keen with the shrewdness in them.  Jocelyn sprang to her feet, her face flaming, her body tense.

“The—­the wretches!” she gasped.

Roger Hapgood made no reply, content for the moment to rest upon his oars, watching the boat he had launched drift as it would.

“Why,” asked Jocelyn, after a little, her face puzzled—­“why do you tell me this, when you are one of Mr. Crawford’s lawyers?”

He lifted his hand as though warding off a blow.

“Don’t say that!  Miss Jocelyn, did you think that I was the sort of man, so forgetful of his manhood, that I would remain in the service of such people when I had found them out?  Did you dream that I could remain a part of a project a second after such a man as Conniston had been put at the head of it?  Did you think,” half sadly, half reproachfully, “that I could continue my affiliations with such men after the treatment which Mr. Truxton—­your father—­had received?  Miss Jocelyn, I went straight to Mr. Winston and handed him my resignation.  Thank God that if I must give up my position I can at least keep my self-respect!”

It was very effectively done, and Jocelyn thrilled with it.

“I am so sorry!” she said, softly, her light touch sympathetic upon his arm.  “So sorry that because of us—­”

“Don’t say it—­please don’t, Miss Jocelyn!  I can never forget that it was I, no matter how innocently, who helped them in getting the excuse they were looking for.  And don’t you see, I shall feel in a way that my fortune is linked with yours, I shall feel that there are certain bonds between us, I shall feel that in a small, very small way I am being of some light service to your father and,” very softly—­“and to you.”

“But what will you do?  You have so few friends here.  This is a new country to you—­”

“For a moment I thought of returning immediately to the East.  But I could not.  Why?  I won’t tell you now; I dare not.”  He paused long enough to look the things which short acquaintance forbade him saying, and then, as though shaking himself mentally, went on, “What shall I do?  I have already done it.  Just so long as I thought blindly that the right was with us I worked for reclamation as a man does not often work.  And now that the scales have dropped from my eyes, do I hesitate?  I have gone to Mr. Swinnerton.  I have offered him my services.  And he has seen fit to accept them.  And now I shall not have to sit idly by, my hands in my lap, waiting to see the Crawfords reap the rewards and assume the honors which belong—­elsewhere!”