papers made over to him this morning. If he manifests surprise or is seen to hesitate, tell him your orders are imperative. If he declares ruin will follow, inform him that you are not to be frightened by words; that your employer is as fully aware of the position of affairs as he. Whatever he says, bring the papers.”
Bertram nodded his head and endeavored to rise, but his uncle’s hand rested upon him too heavily.
“He is a small man; you need have no dread of him physically. The sooner you find him and acquit yourself of your task, the better I shall be pleased.” And then the hand lifted.
On his way downstairs Bertram encountered Paula. She was standing in the hall and accosted him with a very trembling tone in her voice. All her questions were in regard to Mr. Sylvester.
“Have you seen him?” she asked. “Does he speak—say anything? No one has heard him utter a word since he came in from downtown and saw her lying there.”
“Yes, certainly; he spoke to me; he has been giving me some commissions to perform. I am on my way now to attend to them.”
She drew a deep breath. “O!” she cried, “would that he had a son, a daughter, a child, someone!”
This exclamation following what had taken place above struck Bertram forcibly. “He has a son in me, Paula. Love as well as duty binds me to him. All that a child could do will I perform with pleasure. You can trust me for that.”
She threw him a glance of searching inquiry. “His need is greater than it seems,” whispered she. “He was deeply troubled before this terrible accident occurred. I am afraid the arrow is poisoned that has made this