Mary Roberts Rinehart

“ David nodded. “Go on.”
“We'll start like this. God knows I don't want to make any trouble. But I'll put a hypothetical case. Suppose that a man when drunk commits a crime and then disappears; suppose he leaves behind him a bad record and an enormous fortune; suppose then he reforms and becomes a useful citizen, and everything is buried.”
Doctor David listened stonily. Gregory lowered his voice. ”

“ There was, indeed, something almost beseeching in Gregory's eyes, as though he stood ready to give confidence for confidence. And, more than that, a sort of not unfriendly stubbornness, as though he had come to do something he meant to do.
“Sit down,” he said, relaxing somewhat. “Certainly my nephew is making no secret of the fact that he went to the theater last night. ”

“ And he took Jud—he took your nephew's automobile license number.”
Still David sat silent, and Gregory moved to the door.
“Get him away, to-night if you can.”
“Thank you,” David said. His voice was thick. “I appreciate your coming.”
He got up dizzily, as Gregory said, “Good-evening” and went out. The room seemed very dark and unsteady, and not familiar. So this was what had happened, after all the safe years! A man could work and build and pray, but if his house was built on the sand—
As the outer door closed David fell to the floor with a crash. ”