By the World Forgot: A Double Romance of the East and West

"Mr. Maynard," said Harnash, summoning his courage up to the self-accusing point, "I've something very important to say."

"What is it?" asked the financier, sitting down at the big desk, disregarding his mail, and staring at Harnash.

"It begins somewhat far back."

"Get to the point quickly."

"I will. I love your daughter. I have loved her ever since I met her, long before she became engaged to Beekman."

"Damn him."

"Wait a minute before you condemn him."

"What's he got to do with your trouble?"

"Much."

"I think Stephanie has about forgotten him, and, frankly, if you want to marry her-well, I had other views for her, but I don't see why you shouldn't," was the old man's surprising answer.

"There may be reasons to the contrary of which you know nothing, Mr. Maynard."

"What are they? Why all this beating around the bush?"

"You've thought hardly of Beekman because he disappeared on his wedding day."

"Yes."

"I was the cause of it."

"Good God! Did you murder him?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Do you know what you're saying?"

"Perfectly."

"You must be crazy."

"I think I am. This came this morning."

The unhappy Harnash held out the telegram.

"Well," said Maynard, reading it over quickly. "That's a bad job, of course, but the Susquehanna is fully insured. It's unfortunate about the men, and the Russians have been cabling us for that shipment of munitions and war material, but what's this got to do with Beekman?"

"He was on the burned ship."

"What!"

"Her mate, Woywod, was a boyhood friend of mine. I told him I loved your daughter and she loved me-"

"Oh, it's got that far, has it?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you had him shanghaied by this Woywod," said Maynard, frowning, as the whole situation became instantly clear to him.

"I did."

"Does Stephanie know?"

"Not a thing."

"Was she a party to this transaction?"

"In no way. I always knew I loved her, but we only found out she loved me while Beekman was away during the year after his father's death. I begged her to confess the truth, to appeal to you and to Beekman, and to break the engagement. She refused to do any of these things. She said it was the most cherished desire of your heart, that you and old Beekman, who were bound together by affection of long standing, had agreed upon it, that she had given her word with her eyes open."

"And you did this thing with what in view, pray?"

"To delay the marriage in the hope that something might turn up and I might win her."

"Something has turned up."

"I'm afraid so."

"But isn't it just possible that Beekman may be one of those six men who survived?"

"We should have heard from him in that event."

"Right, but isn't it just possible that the other boat may turn up or its men may have landed on some Pacific island?"

"It's possible," said Harnash, "but not likely."

"It's generally the unlikely thing that happens in life," said Maynard, coolly, staring hard at the unfortunate young man to whom confession was obviously difficult. "For instance, the most unlikely thing that I could think of is that I should be sitting here quietly listening to you confess this treacherous and dastardly crime without being able to determine whether I shall hand you over to the authorities or give you my daughter as a wife."

"I don't think the disposition of your daughter's hand rests with you now."

"Does it rest with you?"

"No. She has told me that she would never even allow me to speak to you or consent to marry me until she had been released by you and Beekman."

Maynard thought deeply. He was, as he had said, in a state of indecision most unusual and extraordinary with him. To be unable to settle upon his course was most annoying to him.

"You haven't told her what you did?"

"Not a word."

"You'll have to tell her now," he said at last, thinking that perhaps she might throw some light on the problem.