I insist upon absolute silence. You understand?"
She nodded.
"And one thing more," Mr. Clarke added. "I forbid any further
communication between you and Mac. He is not coming home at Christmas,
and we are thinking of sending him abroad in June. I propose to keep him
away from here for the next two or three years."
Nance fingered the blotter on the table absently. It was all very well
for them to plan what they were going to do with Mac, but she knew in her
heart that a line from her would set at naught all their calculations.
Then her mind flew back to Dan.
"If he comes back--Dan, I mean,--are you going to take him on again?"
Mr. Clarke saw his chance and seized it.
"On one condition," he said. "Will you give me your word of honor not to
communicate with Mac in any way?"
They were both standing now, facing each other, and Nance saw no
compromise in the stern eyes of her employer.
"I'll promise if I've got to," she said.
"Very well," said Mr. Clarke. "That's settled."
CHAPTER XXVII
FATE TAKES A HAND
Some sinister fascination seems to hover about a bridge at night,
especially for unhappy souls who have grappled with fate and think
themselves worsted. Perhaps they find a melancholy pleasure in the
company of ghosts who have escaped from similar defeats; perhaps they
seek to read the riddle of the universe, as they stand, elbows on rail,
studying the turbulent waters below.
On the third night after Dan's arrival in Cincinnati, the bridge claimed
him.
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