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Graham carried the coffee into the little parlor, where Clayton sat

dropped on a low chair, his hands between his knees He was a strange,

disheveled figure, gray of face and weary, and the hand he held out for

the cup was blistered and blackened Graham did not touch his coffee He

put it on thewhile Clayton finished his

"Shall I tell you now, sir?"

Clayton drew a long breath

"It was Herht, but it was too late I should

have known, of course, but so

time I'd have sworn he was loyal"

For the first time in his life Graham saw his father weaken, the

pitiful, asha man His voice broke, his face

twitched The boy drew hio to pieces He

could not know that Clayton had worked all that night in that hell with

the conviction that in some way his own son was responsible; that he

knew already what Graham was about to tell him

"If Herman Klein did it, father, it was because he was the tool of a

gang And the reason he was a tool was because he thought I was--living

with Anna I wasn't I don't knohy I wasn't There was every chance