Ware thought there must have been a great deal of good in Denham, despite his evil career, seeing that he had gained the good will of both Portia and Anne.
But he had no time to talk further to Portia on these points, as a card was brought in to him, and he learned that Mrs. Morley was waiting to see him.
He said a few final words to Portia.
"How do you stand?" he asked.
"Anne will look after me," she answered. "I don't suppose you'll be mean enough to put her against me."
"Why should I?" said Giles mildly. "I am only too glad to help you in any way I can.
But this money your father——"
"That is all right.
Father saw Mr. Asher, the lawyer, and has left his money to Anne, every penny of it.
I get nothing," cried Portia, with a fresh burst of grief; "but I do hope Anne will help me.
I'm sure I've always been very good to her, even though she isn't my sister."
"Did your father tell you she wasn't?"
"Yes.
He said she was an adopted child.
Though why he should have left her all, and me nothing——"
Here Portia wept again.
Ware saw that Denham had arranged with Asher that her father's money should pass to Anne.
No doubt he had told the lawyer the whole history of the imposture, and Asher would now take steps to place Anne in possession of her fortune.
But Denham had deceived Portia, probably because he wished the girl to think well of him after he was dead.
Giles resolved that he would not undeceive the girl.
"I'll see that things are made easy for you," he said. "Are you still at the Priory?"
"There's nowhere else for me to go till I hear from Anne."
"Anne is in town.
I'll write to her, and we'll see what can be done."
Portia rose to go, but she expressed no thanks for his kindness.
"So you are to marry Anne," she said. "Well, I hope you'll be good to her."
"Don't you think I shall?"
Portia, in spite of her grief, tossed her head.
"I don't know," she said; "all men are bad, except my father, who was very, very good," and she looked defiantly at Giles as though challenging contradiction.
But Ware was too sorry for the girl to make any harsh remark.
He walked with her to the outer door, and sent her away in a much more cheerful mood.
Then he returned to his study, and found Mrs. Morley already seated near his desk.
She looked ill and worn, but, in strange contrast to her usual custom, wore a colored gown, and evidently had been trying to dress herself as gaily as possible.
She saw the surprised look on Giles' face, and guessed its meaning.
"Yes, Mr. Ware," she said, plucking at her dress, "you see I have my holiday clothes on.
Even though Oliver has left me, there is no need for me to go into mourning.
No.
He has deserted me basely.
I am determined to show the world that I don't care."
"Mrs. Morley, your husband is dead."
"Dead!" She half started from her chair, but sat down again with a white face. Then to Giles' horror she began to laugh.
He knew that Morley had been a bad husband to the woman before him, but that she should laugh on hearing of his death, made him shiver.
He hastily explained how Morley had met with his fate, and Mrs. Morley not only laughed again, but clapped her gloved hands.
"Dead!" she said quite gleefully.
"Ah! he was lucky to the last."
Ware thought that the widow must be off her head to talk like this; but Mrs. Morley was perfectly sane, and her exclamation was perfectly natural, as he soon learned.
She enlightened him in her next speech.
"Don't you call a man lucky," she said quietly, "who died like my husband in the clean waves of the sea, instead of being hanged as he deserved?"
"What do you mean?" asked the startled Giles.
"Can't you guess?" She drew a paper out of her pocket. "I came here to give you that, Mr. Ware.