"Then I have. There's his note to your father still lying about the store. Have you ever seen the signature of the man who turned up last night?"
"No, I haven't."
"Nor will you ever!" said Young, emphatically.
"Why not? What are you driving at?"
"He has injured his right hand!"
His meaning was slow to dawn upon her; yet some vague sense of it was already troubling her heart.
"Well?" she said. "What then? It was a most unfortunate accident."
"I don't agree with you. On the contrary, if you ask me, I should call it a very happy accident indeed! There are more documents in the air than those he professes to have lost. Some had come up by the mail. And your father had asked him to sign them!"
There was a pause.
"I see: so you don't think it was an accident at all," said Irralie, with the stinging contempt of sudden and complete self-control.
