CHAPTER XXII

A PROBLEM IN VIRTUOUS STRATEGY

The curate walked back to Ipping House with a lighter heart than he had known for days. It was true he had not carried out his spectacular purpose of running down a criminal, nor had he proved himself a very wonderful detective; in fact, he was still in darkness touching the nature of Hester Storm's wrongdoing; but it had been his privilege to help this girl at a critical moment, and to turn her from evil ways to sincere repentance. As to any future problems or complications, Horatio had no fear, for he knew the good seed was growing in Hester's heart and, if the heart was right, everything else must be right. And he took great satisfaction in immediately destroying the incriminating letter, rending it into small pieces and scattering these toward the lake as he strode buoyantly along the shore path.

Meantime the girl herself, the object of Merle's loving solicitude, sat motionless on the broad, low bench between the friendly fir trees. Dazed, frightened, yet full of a strange joy, Hester was thinking of this extraordinary, this unbelievable thing that had happened. A meek little man, with amusing side whiskers, had spoken to her, had looked into her eyes and, suddenly, her whole life was changed, absolutely and irrevocably changed. She was not and never again would be the girl she had been. That was sure. The words she had spoken with bended head were graven on her memory. She had given her promise to God and to Rosalie, and nothing in the world could make her break it, still----

She gazed out over the lake where the swans were drifting idly, and a smile, half plaintive, half mischievous, formed about her warm, red lips, as she reflected that here was Hester Storm, known on Manhattan Island as a cold-blooded proposition, little Hester, who had gone up against hard games in various cities and gotten away with them--not so bad, her bluffing Grimes with the haughty stare in Charing Cross station--here she was with a big bunch of money right in her hands, you might say, and letting it go, letting the whole thing go and starting all over again because--because she wanted to.

Now her thoughts went back to the minister's program: To be honest, to be kind, to make amends, if she could, for any wrong act--there it was. Well, as to making amends, she would give back the purse. She had stolen it, and she would give it back. That was easy!

No! Not so easy as it seemed, for the purse was in Betty Thompson's golf bag, which was in one of the lockers at the country club, where Mrs. Baxter had left it. And this locker was secured by a key kept in Mrs. Baxter's bureau drawer--also locked. There were infinite complications here. Suppose she were found picking one of these locks?

The penitent laughed ruefully as she reflected that it was just as difficult and dangerous to get the purse now for a good purpose (to return it to the bishop) as it was before to get it for a wicked purpose. Yet the purse must be returned; it must be returned immediately, for any day or hour might bring the discovery of that ill-guarded money, through the blundering luck of some caddy boy or club cleaner or hanger-on about the locker room. And such a discovery would inevitably provoke a new investigation, and that must not be. Hester was sorry for her wrongdoing, but she had no wish to go to jail.

Here, then, was a delicate problem: to steal virtuously a purse already stolen, and give it back to the owner so that he would have no idea (Scotland Yard ditto) whence it came or where it had been or who had turned the trick. Hester pondered this for a long time with the old, keen look in her half-shut eyes.

"It can't be done," she finally decided. "I'd just get in deeper and deeper, and--the first thing I knew I'd be----"

Then, like an inspiration, the solution came. It was perfectly simple, perfectly safe, the bishop should have his property within twenty-four hours, and nobody would be the wiser.

"Sure!" the girl reflected. "That does it. I'll tell her, I'll tell her the whole thing. She'll be sorry to know I'm that kind, but she'll be glad I'm on the level now, and--she'll keep my secret and--she can give back the purse."

With a sigh of relief Hester rose from the bench, and, drawing her cloak about her, started down the path. The thing was settled and there was no reason for delay. On the contrary, the sooner she found Miss Thompson and told her the truth the sooner this trouble would be ended, and she would be free to go away. A train to London, a call at the steamship agency--why, she might be on the ocean in two or three days, hurrying back to Rosalie! Not with a fortune, to be sure, but she knew that Rosalie would be happier to have her sister back and to hear the great news of her cutting out certain things, happier than if she brought ten fortunes--in the other way.

The girl stopped suddenly as she turned the point beyond the cove. There was the boat landing and the little footbridge leading to the summer house. And there, on a bench beyond the summer house, was Anton, the chauffeur, and she remembered, with a vague feeling of alarm, that he was waiting for her!