Free The Breaking Point by Mary Roberts Rinehart

why you want to see it."
    "He is tall, rather spare? And he took a young lady to the theater last
night?" Gregory persisted.
    "He answers that description. What of it?"
    "And he is your nephew?"
    "My brother's son," David said steadily.
    Somehow it began to dawn on him that there was nothing inimical in this
strange visitor, that he was anxious and ill at ease. 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. If you'll
tell me who you are—"
    But Gregory did not sit down. He stood where he was, and continued to
eye David intently.
    "I don't know just what it conveys to you, Doctor, but I am Beverly
Carlysle's brother."
    David lowered himself into his chair. His knees were suddenly weak under
him. But he was able to control his voice.
    "I see," he said. And waited.
    "Something happened last night at the theater. It may be important. I'd
have to see your nephew, in order to find out if it is. I can't afford
to make a mistake."
    David's ruddy color had faded. He opened a drawer of his desk and
produced a copy of the photograph of Dick in his uniform. "Maybe this
will help you."
    Gregory studied it carefully, carrying it to the window to do so. When
he confronted David again he was certain of himself and his errand for
the first time, and his manner had changed.
    "Yes," he said, significantly. "It does."
    He placed the photograph on the desk, and sitting down, drew his chair
close to David's. "I'll not use any names, Doctor. I think you know what
I'm talking about. I was sure enough last night. I'm certain now."
    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.
    "Suppose there's a woman mixed up in that situation. Not guiltily, but
there's a lot of talk. And suppose she lives it down, for ten years,
and then goes back to her profession, in a play the families take the
children to see, and makes good. It isn't hard to suppose that neither
of those two people wants the thing revived, is it?"
    David cleared his throat.
    "You mean, then, that there is danger of such a revival?"
    "I think there is," Gregory said bitterly. "I recognized this man last
night, and called a fellow who knew him in the old days, Saunders,
our stage manager. And a newspaper man named Bassett wormed it out of
Saunders. You know what that means."
    David heard him clearly, but as though from a great distance.
    "You can see how it appears to Bassett. If he's found it, it's the big
story of a lifetime. I thought he'd better be warned."
    When David said nothing, but sat holding tight to the arms of his old
chair, Gregory reached for his hat and got up.
    "The thing for him to do," he said, "is to leave town for a while. This
Bassett is a hound-hog on a scent. They all are. He is Bassett of the
Times-Republican. 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.

XI
*
    Bassett lounged outside the neat