HALF A CHANCE

BYFREDERIC S. ISHAM

AUTHOR OFUNDER THE ROSETHE LADY OF THE MOUNT, ETC. 

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BYHERMAN PFEIFER

INDIANAPOLISTHE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANYPUBLISHERS

COPYRIGHT 1909THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY

OCTOBER

PRESS OFBRAUNWORTH & CO. BOOKBINDERS AND PRINTERSBROOKLYN, N. Y. 

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CONTENTS

PART ONE

 I MR. GILLETT'S CHARGE II A MESSAGE TO THE ADMIRALTY III AN UNAPPRECIATED BOUNTY

PART TWO

 I THE WHEELS OF JUSTICE II AT THE OPERA III A LESSON IN BOTANY IV TIDES VARYING V IN THE PARK VI A CONFERENCE VII INCIDENTS VIII A CHANGE OF FRONT IX AWAY FROM THE TOWN X A CONTEST XI WAYS AND MEANS XII FESTIVITIES XIII THE PRINCESS SUITE XIV AN ANSWER XV CURRENTS AND COUNTER CURRENTS XVI FLIGHT XVII THE UNEXPECTEDXVIII THROUGH THE FOG XIX THE LAST SHIFT XX THE PAPER XXI A CONDITION XXII NEAR THE RIVERXXIII PAST AND PRESENT

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PART ONE

CHAPTER I

MR. GILLETT'S CHARGE

"By all means, m'deah, let's go down between decks and have a look atthem. "

"Of course, if you wish, Sir Charles, although--Do you think we shall beedified, Mr. Gillett?"

"That depends, m'lady, "--and the speaker, a man with official mannersand ferret-like eyes, shifted from one foot to another, --"on whatdegree, or particular class of criminal your ladyship would beinterested in, " he added. "If in the ordinary category of skittlesharper or thimblerigger, " with a suspicion of mild scorn, "then I donot imagine your ladyship would find much attraction in the presentcargo. But, on the other hand, " in a livelier tone, "if your ladyshiphas any curiosity, or shall we say, a psychological bent, regarding thereal out-and-outer, the excursion should be to your liking. For, "rubbing his hands, "a properer lot of cutthroats and bad magsmen, it hasnever been my privilege to escort across the equator; and this is mysixth trip to Australia!"

"How interesting! How very interesting!" The lady's voice floatedlanguidly. "Sir Charles is quite right. We must really go down. At anyrate, it will be a change, after having been shut up so long in thatterrible state-room. "

"One moment, m'lady! There's a little formality that must be observedfirst. "

"Formality?" And the lady, who was of portly appearance and uncertainage, gazed from the speaker standing deferentially before her, to a manof size, weight and importance seated in a comfortable chair at herside. "What does he mean, Sir Charles?"

"Regulations, m'lady--m'lord!" was the answer. "No one allowed on theprisoners' deck without the captain's permission. There he is now. "

"Then be good enough to beckon to him!" said the lady. 

But this Mr. Gillett, agent of the police, discreetly declined to do;Captain Macpherson was a man not to be beckoned to by any one; much lessby him. As he stood squarely in the center of the ship, he looked like amariner capable of commanding his boat and all the people aboard;indeed, some of the characteristics of his vessel seemed to have enteredinto his own make-up; the man matched the craft. Broad-nosed, wide ofbeam, big, massive, obstinate-looking, the _Lord Nelson_ plowedaggressively through the seas. With every square sail tugging hard ather sturdy masts, she smote and over-rode the waves, and, beating themdown, maintained an unvarying, stubborn poise. But although she refusedto vacillate or shuffle to the wooing efforts of the uneasy waters, sheprogressed not without noise and pother; foamed and fumed mightily atthe bow and left behind her a wake, receding almost as far as the eyesmight reach. Captain Macpherson looked after the bubbles, cast hisglance aloft at the bulging patches of white, and then condescended toobserve the agent of the police who had silently approached. 

"Sir Charles and lady, and Sir Charles' party have expressed, CaptainMacpherson, the desire to obtain permission to visit the prisoners'deck. "

Captain Macpherson looked toward Sir Charles and his lady, the otherpassengers lounging around them, a little girl, at the rail, her hair, blown windward, a splash of gold against the blue sky. "What for?" saidthe skipper bruskly. 

"To have a look at the convicts, I suppose. "

"What good'll that do them?" growled the commander. "Idle curiosity, that's what I call it. Well, go along. Only, I'll hold you accountable, and bear this in your mind, no tracts!"

"I don't think, " replied Mr. Gillett with some asperity, "you need beapprehensive on that score, Captain Macpherson. Sir Charles and m'ladyare not that sort. "

"Well, keep them away from the bars. The weather has nae improved thetempers of a few of the rapscallions, and they'd like naught better thana chance for their claws. "

"Thanks for the permission, and, " a little stiffly, "the admonition, which latter, " turning away, "a man whose lifelong profession has beendealing with convicts is most likely to stand in need of and heed. "

Captain Macpherson frowned, stumped the other way, then looked once morealoft, and, by the exercise of that ingenuity peculiarly his own, foundnew tasks for the sailors. Aboard any ship, especially a ship of thischaracter, it was his theory and practice that discipline could not betoo strictly maintained and the men on the _Lord Nelson_ knew no idlemoments. 

"May I go, too?"

The child with the golden hair desisted in her occupation of watchingthe flying-fish and other _real_-winged creatures, and, leaving therail, walked toward the group that was about to follow Mr. Gillett. Shewas a very beautiful girl of ten or eleven; slim, delicately fashioned, of a definite proud type. But although she held herself erect, in anunconscious patrician sort of way, there was, also, about her somethingwayward and different from the conventional, aristocratic set. Thedisordered golden hair proclaimed it, while in the depths of the fine, blue eyes manifold changing lights told of a capriciousness out of thepale of a stiffly decorous and well-contained caste. 

"May I go, too, aunt?" she repeated. 

"Why, of course!" interposed a blasé, cynical-appearing young man whohad just emerged from the cabin. "Don't know where she wants to go, orwhat she wants to do; but don't say she can't; really you mustn't, now. "

"Well, since you insist on spoiling her, Lord Ronsdale--"

He twisted a blond mustache which adorned a handsome face that bore manymarks of what is called experience of the world. "Couldn't do that!Besides, Jocelyn and I are great chums, don't you know. We're going tobe married some day when she grows up. "

"_Are_ we?" said the child. "The man _I_ marry must be very big andstrong, and must _not_ have light hair. "

Lord Ronsdale laughed tolerantly. 

"Plenty of time for you to change your mind, don't you know. Meanwhile, I'll not despair. Faint heart, and so on. But, " turning to Sir Charles, "where is it she 'wants to go?'"

"To see the convicts. "

"Convicts? Ah!" He spoke rather more quickly than usual, with accentsharper. 

"You didn't know who your neighbors were going to be when you decided sosuddenly to accompany us?"

"No. " His voice had a metallic sound. 

Sir Charles addressed Mr. Gillett. "Tell us something more definiteabout your charges whom we are going to inspect. Meant to have found outearlier in the voyage, but been so jolly seasick, what with one galeafter another, I for one, until now, haven't much cared whether we hadClaude Duval and Dick Turpin themselves for neighbors, or whether we allwent straight to Davy Jones' locker together. A bad lot, you havealready informed us! But how bad?"

"Well, we haven't exactly M. Duval or Mr. Turpin in the pen, but we'veone or two others almost as celebrated in their way. There's BillyBurke, as desperate a cracksman as the country can produce, with, "complacently, "a record second to none in his class. He"--and Mr. Gillett, with considerable zest entered into the details of Mr. Burke'seventful and rapacious career. "Then there's the ''Frisco Pet, ' or the'Pride of Golden Gate, ' as some of the sporting papers call him. "

"The 'Frisco Pet!" Lord Ronsdale started; his color slightly changed;his lashes drooped over his cold eyes. "He is on board this vessel?"

"Yes; you remember him, my Lord, I dare say?"

"In common with many others, " shortly. 

"Many of the gentry and titled classes did honor him with theirattention, I believe. "

"Why, " asked Jocelyn, whose blue eyes were fastened very intently on theface of the police agent, "did they call him such a funny name, the'Frisco Pet?"

"Because he's a yankee bruiser, prize-fighter, or was, before the drinkgot him, " explained Mr. Gillett. "And originally, I believe, he hailedfrom the land of the free. Some one brought him to London, found outabout his 'talents' and put him in training. He was a low, ignorantsailor; could scarcely write his own name; but he had biceps and a thickhead. Didn't know when he was whipped. I can see him yet, as he used tolook, with his giant shoulders and his swagger as he stepped into thering. There was no nonsense about him--or his fist; could break a boardwith that. And how the shouts used to go up; 'the pet!' 'a quid on thepet!' 'ten bob on the stars and stripes!' meaning the costume he wore. Oh, he was a favorite in Camden Town! But one night he failed them; metsome friends from the forecastle of a Yankee trader that had droppeddown the Thames. Went into the ring with a stagger added to the swagger. Well, they took him out unconscious; never was a man worse punished. Henever got back to the sawdust, and the sporting gentlemen lost a brightand shining light. "

"Broke his heart, I suppose, " observed Sir Charles. 

"How could that break his heart?" asked the child wonderingly. "Ithought when people had their hearts broken--"

"Jocelyn, don't interrupt!" said the wife of Sir Charles. "Although, " toher husband, in a lower tone, "I must confess these details a littletiresome!"

"Not a bit!" Sir Charles' voice rose in lively protest. "I remember outin Australia reading about the fellow in the sporting papers from home, and wondering what had become of him. So that was it? Go on, Mr. Gillett! With your permission, m'love!"

The police agent proceeded. "After that it was a case of the rum and thetoss-pots, and when he was three sheets in the wind, look out forsqualls! He got put in quad, broke out, overpowered and nearly killedtwo guards. Took to various means of livelihood, until they got himagain. Trouble in prison; transferred to the solitary with a littlepunishment thrown in for a reminder. When he got out of limbo again, helived in bad company, in one of the tunnels near the Adelphi; hard placefor the police to rout a cove from. Then followed a series of roughbungling jobs he was supposed to have been mixed up in. At any rate, hegot the credit. More hazards than loot! He had too heavy fingers foranything fine; but he made it quite interesting for the police, quiteinteresting! So much so, he attracted _me_, and I concluded to take ahand, to direct the campaign against him, as it were. "

Mr. Gillett paused; obviously in his case egotism allied to enthusiasmmade his duties a pleasure; he seemed now briefly commending himself inhis own mind. "Up to this time, " he resumed, "our friend, theex-pugilist, had never actually killed any one, but soon after I engagedmyself to look after him, word was brought to the department that a poorwoman had been murdered, a cheap music-hall dancer. She had seen betterdays, however. "

Lord Ronsdale, who had been looking away, yawned, as if finding thepolice agent "wordy, " then strolled to the rail. 

"Suspicion pointed strongly in his direction; and we got him after astruggle. It was a hard fight, without a referee, and maybe we used hima little rough, but we had to. Then Dandy Joe was brought in. Joe's aplain, mean little gambler and race-track follower, with courage not bigenough for broad operations. But he had a wide knowledge of what we termthe thieves' catacombs, and, well, he 'peached' on the big fellow. Gavetestimony that was of great service to the prosecution. The case seemedclear enough; there was some sort of contrary evidence put in, but itdidn't amount to anything. His record was against him and he got a heavysentence, with death as a penalty, if he ever sets foot in Englandagain. "

"What, " asked Mr. Gillett's youngest listener, "is 'peached'?"

"In school-girl parlance, it is, I believe, to 'tell on' some one. "

"You mean a tattle-tale?" scornfully. "I hate them. "

"They have their uses, " he answered softly. "And I'm rather partial tothem, myself. But if you are ready, m'lord--m'lady--"

"Quite! Egad! I'm curious to have a look at the fellow. Used to like tosee a good honest set-to myself occasionally, before Ibecame--ahem!--governor!" And rising with alacrity, Sir Charles assistedhis lady from her chair. "Coming, Ronsdale?"

"Believe I won't go down, " drawled the nobleman at the rail. "Air betterup here, " he explained. 

Sir Charles laughed, got together the other members of his party and allfollowed Mr. Gillett to a narrow companion way. There a strong iron doorstopped their progress, but, taking a key from his pocket the policeagent thrust it into a great padlock, gave it a turn, and swung back thebarrier. Before them stretched a long aisle; at each end stood asoldier, with musket; on one side were the cells, small, heavily-barred. The closeness of the air was particularly and disagreeably noticeable;here sunlight never entered, and the sullen beating of the waves againstthe wooden shell was the only sound that disturbed the tomb-likestillness of the place. 

One or two of the party looked soberer; the child's eyes were large withawe and wonder; she regarded, not without dread, something moving, ashape, a human form in each terrible little coop. But Mr. Gillett's faceshone with livelier emotions; he peered into the cells at his chargeswith a keen bright gaze that had in it something of the animal tamer'szest for his part. 

"Well, how are we all to-day?" he observed in his most animated mannerto the guard. "All doing well?"

"Number Six complained of being ill, but I say it's only the dumps. Number Fourteen's been garrulous. "

"Garrulous, eh? Not a little flighty?" The guard nodded; Mr. Gillettwhispered a few instructions, asked a number of other questions. Meanwhile the child had paused before one of the cells and, fascinated, was gazing within. What was it that held her? the pity of the spectacle?the terror of it? Her blue eyes continued to rest on the convict, ayoung fellow of no more than one-and-twenty, of magnificent proportions, but with face sodden and brutish. For his part he looked at her, open-mouthed, with an expression of stupid surprise at the sight of thefigure so daintily and slenderly fashioned, at the tangles of brightgolden hair that seemed to have imprisoned some of the sunshine fromabove. 

"Well, I'm blowed!" he muttered hoarsely. "Where'd you come from? Lookslike one o' them bally Christmas dolls had dropped offen some counter inFleet Street and got in here by mistake!"

A mist sprang to the blue eyes; she held her white, pretty fingers tightagainst her breast. "It must be terrible--here"--she said falteringly. 

The convict laughed harshly. "Hell!" he said laconically. 

The child trembled. "I'm sorry, " she managed to say. 

The fierce dark eyes stared at her. "What for?"

"Because--you have to stay here--"

"Well, I'm--" But this time he apparently found no adequate adjective. "If this ain't the rummiest Christmas doll!"

She put out her hand. "Here's something for you, poor man, " she said, assteadily as she could. "It's my King George gold piece, date 1762, andbelonged to my father who wore it on his watch chain and who is dead. Perhaps they'll let you buy something with it. "

He looked at the hand. "If she ain't stickin' out her duke to me, rightthrough the bars. Blamed if she ain't! Looks like a lily! A bally whitelily!" he repeated wonderingly. "One of them kind we wonst run acrostwhen the Cap. Turned us adrift on an island, jest to waller in greengrass!"

"Don't you want it?" said the child. 

He extended a great, coarse hand hesitatingly, as if half-minded to andhalf-minded not to touch the white finger-tips. 

"You ain't afraid?"

The golden head shook ever so slightly; again the big hand went towardthe small one, then suddenly dropped. 

"Right this way m'lord--m'lady!" The face of the convict abruptlychanged; fury, hatred, a blind instinct to kill were unmistakablyrevealed in his countenance as he heard the bland voice of the policeagent. From the child's hand the gold disk fell and rolled under thewooden slab that served as a couch in the cell. 

"Jocelyn!" The expostulating tones of the governor's wife preceded theapproach of the party. "What are you doing, child, so near the bars?"

"Good heavens!" Mr. Gillett seized the girl's arm and abruptly drew heraway. "My dear little lady!" he said. "Really you don't know the dangeryou run. And near that cell of all of them!"

"That cell?" observed Sir Charles. "Then that is--"

"The convict I was telling you about! The 'Pet of 'Frisco. ' The 'Prideof Golden Gate. '"

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CHAPTER II

A MESSAGE TO THE ADMIRALTY

The following night, Captain Macpherson in his cabin, rolled upcarefully the chart he had been scanning, deposited it in a coppercylinder and drew from his pocket a small pipe. As he filled and lightedit, exhaling the smoke of the black weed and leaning more comfortablyback in his low, swinging chair, the expression of his iron countenanceexhibited, in the slightest degree, that solace which comes from thenicotine. Occasionally, however, he would hold his pipe away from hismouth, to pause and listen. The weather had turned nasty again; above, the wind sounded loudly. Now it descended on the ship like afierce-scolding virago, then rushed on with wild, shrieking dissonance. The _Lord Nelson_ minded not, but continued steadily on her way. 

Her captain emptied his pipe, glanced toward his bunk and started totake off his coat. Human nature has its limit; he had passed manysleepless nights and now felt entitled to a brief respite, especially asthe chart showed neither reef nor rock anywhere in the neighborhood. Buthe had only one arm out of the garment when something happened thatcaused him to change his mind; abruptly hurled to the other end of thecabin, he found himself lying, half-stunned, on the floor. A hubbub ofnoises filled the air, snappings, crashings, the rending of woodwork. 

Captain Macpherson staggered to his feet, and, swaying like a drunkenman, stood a few moments holding his hand to his brow. Then his fistclenched and he shook it at the cylinder that had fallen from the table. 

"Ye viperous, lying thing!" he cried, and ran from the cabin to thedeck. 

A single glance told all: two of the ship's giant spars had gone by theboard; entangled in her own wreckage, the vessel thumped and poundedwith ominous violence against some sunken reef. The full scope of theplight of the once noble ship was plainly made manifest. Though thickstreams of scud sped across the sky, the southern moon at the momentlooked down between two dark rivulets, and cast its silvery glow like alime-light, over the spectacle. Captain Macpherson groaned. 

"Mr. O'Brien!" he called loudly. 

"Aye, aye, sir. "

"How long do you give her?"

"Half an hour, sir. "

The master shook his head. "She'll nae last that long. " And holding to astanchion, he seemed like a man in a dream. 

"Any orders, sir?" asked the chief mate. 

Captain Macpherson recovered himself; his tone became once more quickand incisive. "Ye're right; I'm gone daffy. We'll get this business overin a decorous and decent manner. And, Mr. O'Brien--lest I have nae timeto speak of it later--should ye get ashore, and ever find yourself inthe neighborhood o' Piccadilly, be so gude as to drop into the admiraltyoffice and say Captain Macpherson sends his compliments, and--to thediel with their charts!"

"I'll not forget, sir!" A number of orders followed. 

As the chief mate disappeared to execute the commands he had received, the harsh noises of the breaking ship, the seething of the sea abouther, the flapping of canvas, like helpless broken wings, wassupplemented by a babel of new and terrifying sounds, the screaming andcursing of the convicts below, their blasphemous shrieking to be letout! To this turmoil and uproar were added the frantic appeals andinquiries of the passengers who, more or less dressed, had hurried tothe deck and who were now speaking to the master of the ill-starredvessel. He answered them briefly: what could be done, would be done. 

"It's a question of the boats, I suppose?" Sir Charles, one of thecalmest of the ship's cabin party, asked quickly. 

"In ten minutes they'll be ready for the launching with nae lack ofwater and provision. Get plenty of wraps and greatcoats. It'll be a bitdisagreeable, nae doubt, out yon in the wee craft!"

"Wee craft!" The voice of the governor's lady--she was clinging to herhusband's arm--rose shrilly. "You surely are not going to send us outthere in one of these miserable cockleshells?"

"M'love!" Sir Charles expostulated mildly drawing her closer as hespoke, "it's the only chance, and--" Then to the captainhalf-apologetically--"She'll meet it with me, as she has met dangerbefore, in the bush, like a true English-woman! But what, " indicatingthe convicts' deck, "what about them? It seems inhuman, yet if they werelet out--"

"They must not be!" Lord Ronsdale's metallic voice interposed quickly. "I call upon you, Captain Macpherson, in the name of the women andchildren--"

"I've thought about that, " said Captain Macpherson shortly, and turnedto his task. 

The boat was soon overhauled, the lockers and water-butt were filled, and the passengers, one by one, set into it. On the whole, at thatmoment for leaving the ship, their conduct left little room forcriticism; one or two of the women who had appeared on the verge ofhysterics now restrained audible manifestation of emotion. Sir Charlesproved a monument of helpfulness; assisted in placing the women here andthere, and extended a helpful hand to Lord Ronsdale, who had becomesomewhat dazed and inert. Total darkness added to the difficulties oftheir task, for the moon which until then had shone with much luster nowwent behind a curtain of cloud. But Captain Macpherson coolly called outby name the men to handle the life-boat, and, with no evidence ofdisorder, they crowded in, none too soon! As the boat with its humanfreight hung in readiness for the lowering, the remaining spar of the_Lord Nelson_ fell with a mighty crash. 

"Remember the name of your ship, lads!" Captain Macpherson's voiceseemed to anticipate a movement of panic among the seamen on deck; ifthere had been any intention to "rush" the already well-loaded boat, itwas stayed. "Mr. Gillett, I'll be troubling ye for the keys to theconvicts' deck. Mr. O'Brien, get in and take charge. Steer southeastwith a bit of rag; it's your best chance to get picked up. Hold near theship until the other boat with the crew can come alongside. It's as wellto keep company. Are the lines clear? Let her go. "

The boat was lowered and at the right moment touched a receding wave. Captain Macpherson waited until the chief officer called out that theywere safely away, then gave his last order:

"And now, lads, ye can be lookin' to yourselves!"

They did; the master turned and with some difficulty made his way towardthe convicts' cells. Her decks soon deserted, the ship, like a living, writhing thing, seemed to struggle and groan, as if every timber werecrying out in vain protest against the tragic consummation. But only anirrevocable voice answered, that of the mocking sea beating harder, thecruel sea, spotted here and there with black patches between whichsplashes of light revealed the wild waves throwing high their curd inthe cold, argent glimmer. One of these illuminating dashes, as if in aspirit of irony, moved toward the ship, almost enveloped it and showedsuddenly a number of mad, leaping human figures issuing with horriblecries from one of the hatches. 

"The life rafts! Old man said the boats were gone. "

"Rafts good enough for the likes of us, eh? Well, he's paid for keepingus down so long. Blime if I don't think Slick Sam killed him. "

"The rafts!" Shrieking, calling down maledictions on the captain, theyran about, when suddenly an angry black wave swept the deck; a few wentoverboard with the hissing crest; several were hurled against thebulwarks, limp, lifeless things, swirled back and forth. One of theirnumber, a big fellow of unusual strength, was shot toward the opencompanionway leading to the main cabin; as he plunged down, he clutchedat and caught the railing. Considerably shaken, dripping with water, hepulled himself together, and, raising a face, sodden and fierce, like abeast brought to bay, he looked around him. The light of one or twoswinging lamps that had not yet been shattered revealed dimly thesurroundings, the dark leather upholstering, the little tables. Uncertainly the convict paused; then suddenly his eyes brightened; thelustful anticipation of the drunkard who had long been denied shone fromhis gaze as it rested on a sideboard across the cabin. 

"Bottles!" he said, steadying himself. "Rum! Well, I guess there ain'tmuch chance for any of us, and a man's a fool to go to hell thirsty!" Hehad started toward the sideboard with its bright gleaming ware and itsdivers and sundry receptacles of spirits and liqueurs, when suddenly hislook changed, and his jaw fell. 

"What the--" A flow of choice Billingsgate, mingled with the sailor'sequally eloquent Golden-Gate, completed the sentence. The convict stoodstock-still. 

From the door of a state-room at the far end of the cabin a figureappeared. A great shawl draped the small form; the golden hair, a flurryof tangles, floated around it. Clinging to a brass rail that ran alongthe side of the cabin, she approached, her eyes all alight as if wellsatisfied with something. Amazed beyond power of action, the mancontinued to gaze at her, at the tiny feet in the little pink slippers, at something she carried. "By the great horn spoon, the Christmas doll!"he muttered hoarsely. Then forgetting his purpose, the bottles, helurched quickly toward her. 

"Wat you doin' here?" he demanded. 

"I slipped out, " said the child, holding the rail tighter, as perforceshe paused to answer. "I thought it would take only a moment. "

"Slipped out?" he repeated. 

"Of the life-boat, I mean. It was dark and they didn't see me. I justhappened to think, and I had to do it. If I'd told them, they mightn'thave let me. It would have been very wicked if I'd gone away andforgotten--don't you think so? And now I'm going back! Only I am afraidI've been longer than I thought I would be. The door of my state-roomseemed to stick, and I was a few minutes getting it open. "

Beneath disheveled masses of thick dark hair, the brutish face continuedto study the fairylike one; for the instant words seemed to fail him. "Do ye mean, " he observed, "you come back here for that measlydicky-bird?"

"It isn't 'measly' and it isn't a 'dicky-bird!'" she answeredindignantly. "And I'll thank you not to call it that. It's a love-bird, and its name is Dearie!"

"'Dearie'! Ho! Ho!" The ship reeled at a dangerous angle, but theconvict appeared not to notice; his voice rose in harsh, irresistiblerough merriment. "'Dearie'! And she thanks me not to call it names! It!No bigger'n my thumb! Ho! Ho!" His laughter, strange at such a moment, died abruptly. "Do you know what you've gone and done on account ofwhat's in that cage?" he demanded almost fiercely. "You've got left!"

"Left?" said she blankly, shrinking from him a little. "You don'tmean--oh, I thought I would be only a minute! They haven't really gone, and--"

The great fingers closed on her arm. "They've gone and the crew's gone!Both boats are gone!"

"Oh!" The big blue eyes widened on him; an inkling of her plight seemedto come over her; her lips trembled, but she held herself bravely. "Youmean--we must drown?"

The thunder of seas breaking on the deck answered; a cascade of waterdashed down the companionway and swept round them. The man bent towardthe child. "Look a' that! Now ain't ye sorry ye come back?"

"I couldn't leave it to drown!" passionately--"couldn't!--couldn't!"

"Blow me, she's game!" With difficulty he maintained his equilibrium. "See here: maybe there's a chance, if any of them's left to help withthe raft. But we've got to git out o' this!"

He passed his hand through her arm, awaited a favorable moment, andthen, making a dash for the stairs, drew her, as best he might, to thedeck. At the head of the companionway, the wind smote them fiercely withsheets of foam, but his strength stood him in good stead, and bracinghimself hard, the man managed to maintain his stand; holding the childclose to him, he sheltered her somewhat from the full force of thestorm. As he cast his glance over the deck, an oath burst from his lips;the convicts had succeeded in launching one of the rafts and leaving theship by means of it, or else had been carried away by the seas. Ofliving man, he caught no sight; only a single one of the dead yetremained, sliding about on the slippery planks with the movement of theship; now to leeward, now rushing in a contrary direction, as if somegrotesque spirit of life yet animated the dark, shapeless form. 

From wave-washed decks the man's glance turned to the sea; suddenly hestarted; his eyes straining, he stared hard. "Maybe they've missed you. One of the ship's boats seems headin' this way!"

Her gaze followed his; at intervals through driving spray a small craftcould be discerned, not far distant, now riding high on a crest, nowvanishing in a black furrow. 

"Are they coming back to save us?" asked the child. 

The convict did not answer. Could the boat make the ship, could it hopeto, in that sea? It was easier getting away than getting back. Besides, the opportunity for a desperate, heroic attempt to come alongside wasnot to be given her, for scarcely had they caught sight of her, when thestern of the _Lord Nelson_, now filled with water from the inflow at thebow, began to settle more rapidly. Then came a frightful wrenching andthe vessel seemed to break in two. 

"Put yer arms round my neck, " said the man, stooping. 

She put one of them around; with the other held up the cage. He openedthe door of the wickerwork prison and a tiny thing flew out. Then hestraightened. Both arms were around him now. 

"'Fraid?" he whispered hoarsely. 

The child shook her head. 

An instant he waited, then launched himself forward. Buffeted hither andthither, he made a fierce fight for the rail, reached it, and leaped farout into the seething waters. 

 * * * * *

CHAPTER III

AN UNAPPRECIATED BOUNTY

In the prime of his belligerent career the Pet of 'Frisco had undergonemany fierce contests and withstood some terrible punishments, but neverhad he undertaken a task calling for greater courage and power ofendurance than the one he had this night voluntarily assumed. Dashedabout by the seas, he yet managed to keep to the surface; minutes seemedto lengthen into eternity; many times he called out loudly. The armsabout his neck relaxed, but he held the child to him. Not for an instantdid the temptation come to him to release her that he might the moresurely save himself. Overwhelmed again and again by the waves, each timehe emerged with her tight against his breast; half-strangled, hecontinued to fight on. But at length even his dogged obstinacy anddetermination began to flag; he felt his strength going, when raisinghis eyes he saw one of the small craft from the lost vessel bearingdirectly down upon him. 

The sight inspired new energy and effort; nearer, nearer, she drew; nowshe was but a few yards away. Then suddenly the sheet of the life-boatwent out and the little sail fluttered like a mad thing, while the menbent with might and main over their ash handles in the endeavor to obeythe commands of the chief mate in the stern. But despite skill andstrength she was not easy to steer; once she nearly capsized; then eagerhands reached over the side. The convict held up the child; a voice--thepolice agent's--called out that they "had her"; and then the mate brokein with harsh, warning yells. 

"Pull port!--quick!--or we're over!" And at once the outreaching armsreturned quickly to their task; as the child was drawn in, oars draggedand tugged; the life-boat came slowly about, shipping several barrels ofwater. At the same time some one made the loosened sheet taut, thecanvas caught the gust and the craft gained sufficient headway to enableher to run over, and not be run down by the seas. As she careened andplunged, racing down a frothing dark billow, the convict, relieved ofhis burden, clung to the lower gunwale. By a desperate effort he drewhimself up, when a face vaguely remembered--as part of a baddream--looked into his, with a dash of surprise. 

"Eh?--Gimme a hand--"

The asked-for hand swept suddenly under the one grasping the side of theboat, and shot up sharply. In the darkness and confusion no one saw theact. The convict disappeared, but his half-articulate curses followed. 

"The fellow's let go, " muttered Lord Ronsdale with a shiver. 

At the steering oar the chief mate, hearing the cries of the man, cast aswift glance over his shoulder and hesitated. To bring the boat, half-filled with water, around now, meant inevitable disaster; oneexperiment of the sort had well-nigh ended in their all being drowned. He knew he was personally responsible for the lives in his charge; andwith but an instant in which to decide, he declined to repeat the risk. 

"He's probably gone by this time, anyhow, " he told himself, and droveon. 

The convict, however, was not yet quite "gone"; as the boat recededrapidly from view, becoming smaller and smaller, he continuedmechanically to use his arms. But he had as little heart as littlestrength to go on with the uneven contest. 

"He's done me! done me!" he repeated to himself. "And I ain't nevergoin' to git a chance to fix him, " he thought, and looked despairinglyat the sky. The dark rushing clouds looked like black demons; the starsthey uncovered were bright gleaming dagger points. "Ain't never!--theslob!" And with a flood of almost sobbing invective he let himself go. 

But as the waters closed over him and he sank, his hand, reachingblindly out to grip in imagination the foe, touched somethinground--like a serpent, or an eel. His fingers closed about it--it provedto be a line; he drew himself along, and to his surprise found himselfagain on the surface, and near a great fragment of wreckage. This hemight have discovered earlier, but for the anger and hatred that hadblinded him to all save the realization of his inability to wreakvengeance. Now, though he managed to reach the edge of the swaying massfrom which the line dangled, he was too weak to draw himself up on thefloating timbers. But he did pass a loop beneath his arms, and, thussustained, he waited for his strength to return. Finally, his mind in adaze, the convict clambered, after repeated efforts, upon the wreckage, fastened the line about him again, and, falling into a saucer-likehollow, he sank into unconsciousness. 

The night wore on; he did not move. The sea began to subside; still helay as if dead. Dawn's rosy lips kissed away the black shadows, touchedtenderly the waves' tops, and at length the man stirred. He tried to situp, but at first could not. Finally he raised himself and looked abouthim. 

No other sign of the vessel than that part of it which had served him sowell could he see; this fragment seemed rent from the bow; yes, therewas the yellow wooden mermaid bobbing to the waves; but not as of old!Poor cast-out trollop, --now the seas made sport of her who once had heldher head so high!

The convict continued to gaze out over the ocean. Far away, a darkfringe broke the sea-line--a suggestion of foliage--an island, or amirage? Tantalizing, it lay like a shadow, illusive, unattainable as the"forgotten isles. " The man staggered to his feet; his garments weretorn; his hair hung over his brow. He shook his arms at theisland;--this phantasy, this vain, empty vision, he regarded it now assome savage creature might a bone just out of its reach; from his lipsvile words fell--to be suddenly hushed. Between him and what he gazedat, along the range of vision, an object on one of the projectingtimbers caught his eye. It was very small, but it gleamed like a sparksprung from the embers of the dawn. 

"The dicky-bird!" His dried lips tried to laugh. "Ef it ain't thedicky-bird!" The bird looked at him. "Ef that doesn't beat--" but hecould not think what it "beat. " The bird cocked its head. "Ain't yeafeard o' me?" It gave a feeble chirp. "Well, I'm damned!" said the man, and after this mild expression of his feelings, forgot to curse again. He even began to eye the island with a vague questioning wonder, as ifasking himself what means might be thought of that would enable him toreach it; but the problem seemed to be beyond solution. The wreckage, like a great lump, lay supinely on the surface of the water; he couldnot hope to move it. 

The day slowly passed; the sun dried his clothes; once or twice the birdmade a sound--a plaintive little tone--and involuntarily the man movedwith care, thinking not to frighten it. But caution in that regardseemed unnecessary, for the bird appeared very tame and not at allaverse to company. 

Toward noon the man began to suffer more acutely from thirst, anddrawing out a sailors' oilskin pouch, one of the few possessions he hadbeen allowed by the police to retain, he took from it a piece of tobaccowhich he began to chew. At the same time he eyed the rest of thecontents--half a ship's biscuit, some matches and a mariner's thimble. The biscuit he broke, and threw a few crumbs, where the timbers weredry, near the bird. For a long time it looked at the tiny white morsels;but finally, conquering shyness, hopped from its perch and tentativelyapproached the banquet. Hours went by; the man chewed; the bird pecked. 

That night it rained in real, tropical earnest, and he made a watervessel of his shoe, drank many times, ate a few mouthfuls of biscuit, and then placed the filled receptacle where he had thrown the crumbs. Ashe did so he found himself wondering if the dawn would reveal his littlefeathered shipmate or whether it had been swept away by the violence ofthe rain. The early shafts of day showed him the bird on its perch; ithad apparently found shelter from the heavy down-pour beneath someout-jutting timber and seemed no worse for the experience. The man'ssecond glance was in the direction of the island; what he saw brought asudden exclamation to his lips. The land certainly seemed much nearer;some current was sweeping them toward it slowly, but irresistibly. The'Frisco Pet swore joyfully; his eyes shone. "I may do him yet!" hemuttered. The bird chirped; he looked at it. "Breakfast, eh?" he saidand tossed a few more crumbs near the shoe. 

The second day on the floating bow, he brooded a great deal; the sharperpangs of hunger assailed him; he grew desperately impatient, thedistance to the island decreased so gradually. A breeze from the covetedshore fanned his cheek; he fancied it held them back, and fulminatedagainst it, --the beneficent current, --the providential timbers! Afeeling of blind helplessness followed; the sun, beating down fiercely, made him light-headed. Hardly knowing what he did, he drew forth thelast little bit of the biscuit, ground it between his teeth and greedilyswallowed it. The act seemed to sober him; he raised his big hand to hisbrow and looked at "Dearie"; through the confusion of his thoughts hefelt he had done some despicable thing. 

"That weren't fair play, were it now?" he said, looking at the bird. "That ain't like a pal, " he repeated. The bird remained silent; hefancied reproach in its bead-like eyes, they seemed to bore into him. "And you such a small chap, too!" he muttered; then he turned his backon the island, and, with head resting on his elbow, uttered no furthercomplaint. 

That second day on the raft seemed much longer than the first; thesecond night of infinitely greater duration than the preceding one; butdawn revealed the island very near, so near, indeed, the bird made upits mind to try to reach it. It looked at the man for a moment and thenflew away. Long he watched it, a little dark spot--now that he could nolonger see the ruby on its breast! At length it was lost to sight;swallowed up by the green blur. 

The small winged creature gone, the man missed it. "'Peared like 'twasglad to leave such a pal!" he thought regretfully. The floating timbersbecame well-nigh intolerable; he kept asking himself if he could swim toland, but, knowing his weakness from long fasting, he curbed hisimpatience. His eyes grew tired with staring at the longed-for spot; hesuffered the torments of Tantalus, and finally could endure them nolonger. So making his clothes into a bundle, he tied them around hisneck and slipped into the water. 

Half an hour later found him, prone and exhausted, on the yellow sands. Near-by, tall and stately trees nodded at him; close at hand a greatcrab regarded him with reflective interest, hesitating between prudenceand carnivorous desire. Gluttonous inclination to sample the goods thegods had provided prevailed over caution; it moved quickly forward, whenwhat it had considered only an unexpected and welcome _pièce derésistance_ abruptly got up. The tables were turned; that which came todine was dined upon; a crushing blow demonstrated the law of thesurvival of the fittest; the weaker adorned the board. The man tore itto bits, ate it like the famished animal he was. More freely his bloodcoursed; he looked around; saw other creatures and laughed. There seemedlittle occasion for any one to starve here; the isle, a beautifulemerald on the breast of the sea, became a fair battle-ground; all heneeded was a club and he soon found that. 

For a week nothing of moment interrupted the even tenor of hisexistence; he led the life of a savage and found it to his liking, pounced upon turtles and cooked them, kept his fire going because he hadbut few matches. Lying before the blaze at night, near a little spring, he told himself that this was better than being behind prison bars;true, he lacked company, but he had known worse solitude--the"solitary. " In it, he had lain on the hard stones; here he had softmoss. If only he could reach out and touch those he hated--the unknownenemy whose face had bent over him a fleeting instant ere he had struckhis hand from the gunwale; Dandy Joe and the police agent--if only they, too, were here, the place would have been world enough for him. Butthen, he felt, the time for the reckoning must come, --it lay somewherein the certain future. Unconscious fatalist, he nourished the convictionas he nourished the coals of his fire. 

Other means to enhance his physical comfort chance afforded him; thefleshpots were supplemented with a beverage, stronger and more welcomethan that which bubbled and trickled so musically at his feet. One day abox was washed ashore; a message from the civilized centers to the fieldof primitive man! On its cover were the words, "Via sailing vessel, _Lord Nelson_" followed by the address. The convict pried the boardsapart and gave a shout. Rum!--and plenty of it!--bottle after bottle, inan overcoat of straw, nestling lovingly one upon another. The man lickedhis lips; knocked off a neck, drank deep, and then, stopping many times, carried his treasure to his bower. 

Day after day turned its page, merged into the past; sometimes, perforce, he got up, and, not a pleasant thing to look at, staggered tothe beach with his club. There he would slay some crawling thing fromthe sea, return with his prize to mingle eating with drinking, untilsated with both, he would fall back unconscious among the flowers. Butthe prolonged indulgence began to have a marked effect on his store;bottle after bottle was tossed off; the empty shells flung aside to thedaisies. At length the day came when only two bottles remained in thecase, one full pair, sole survivors of the lot. The man took them out, set them up and regarded them; a sense of impending disaster, ofimminent tragedy, shivered through his dulled consciousness. He reachedfor the bottles and fondled them, started to knock the head from one andput it down. Resisting desire, he told himself he would have a look atthe beach; the ocean had generously cast one box of well-primed bottlesat his feet; perhaps it would repeat its hospitable action and make himonce more the recipient of its bounty. The thought buoyed him to theshore; the sea lapped the sand with Lydian whispers, and there, beyondthe edge of the soft singing ripples, he saw something that made him rubhis dazed eyes. 

A box!--a big box!--a box as tall as he was! No paltry dozen or two thistime! Perhaps there was whisky, too; and the bubbling stuff thelong-necked lords had sometimes pressed upon him in the past, when hehad "ousted" his man and put quids in their pockets; or some of thatfiery _vin_--something he had once indulged in with a Johnny Frenchmanbefore he took to the tunnel, when he had been free to swagger throughold Leicester Square. Anyhow, he would soon find out, and, rushingthrough the water, he laid a proprietary hand on the box. But to hisdisappointment, he could not move it; strong though he was, its greatweight defied him. Ingenuity came to his aid, for, after a moment'spondering, he left the box to the sea and made his way back to theforest. When he returned he bore on his shoulder a straight, stout limbwhich he had wrenched from a tree, and in his hand he carried a greatstone. The former became a lever, the latter, a fulcrum; and, by patientexercise of one of the simple principles of physics, he managed, atlength, to transfer the large box from ocean to land. 

To break it open was his next problem, and no easy one, for the boardswere thick, the nails many and formidable. A long time he battered andbattered in vain with his rocks, but, after an hour or so, he succeededin splintering his way through the tough pine. His exertions did not endhere; an inner sheeting of tin caused him to frown; more furiously heattacked this with sharp bits of coral, cutting and bruising his hands. Unmindful of pain, he was enabled at length to pull back a portion ofthe protecting metal and reveal the contents of the packing-case. In hisbefuddled, half-crazed condition, he had thought only of bottles; whathe found proved a different sort of merchandise. 

Maddened, he tossed and scattered the contents of the box on the beach. The ocean had deceived him, laughed at him, cheated him. He turned fromthe shore unsteadily, walked back to his camp and knocked the neck fromone of the two remaining bottles. A few hours later, sodden, sottish, helay without motion, face to the sky. And as he breathed thickly, onebleeding hand still holding the empty bottle, a bird from an overhangingbranch looked down upon him: a tiny bird, little bigger than his thumb, that carried a bright, beautiful spot of red on its breast, cocked itshead questioningly. 

 * * * * *

PART TWO

CHAPTER I

THE WHEELS OF JUSTICE

London, in the spring! Sunshine; the Thames agleam with silver ripples, singing as it flows; red sails! Joyous London that has emerged from fogsand basks beneath blue skies! Thoroughfares that give forth a glad hum;wheels singing, too; whips that crack in sprightly arpeggios. On thestreets, people, not shadows, who walk with a swing; who really seem tobreath and not slink uncannily by! Eyes that regard you with humanexpression; faces that seem capable of emotion; figures adorned inkeeping with the bright realities of the moment. London; old Londonyoung again; grimy, repulsive London now bright, shimmering, beautiful!

In such a London, on such a day, about ten o'clock in the morning, threepersons whose appearance distinguished them from the ordinarypassers-by, turned into a narrow thoroughfare not far from the Strand. 

"Quite worth while going to hear John Steele conduct for his client, Iassure you!" observed one, a tall, military-looking man, who walked witha slight limp and carried a cane. "He's a new man, but he's making hismark. When he asked to be admitted to the English bar, he surprised evenhis examiners. His summing-up in the Doughertie murder case was, I heardhis lordship remark, one of the most masterly efforts he ever listenedto. Just tore the circumstantial evidence to pieces and freed his man!Besides his profession at the bar, he is an unusually giftedcriminologist; takes a strong personal interest in the lowest riffraff;is writing a book, I understand--one of the kind that will throw a newlight on the subject. "

"Just what is a criminologist?" The speaker, a girl of about eighteen, turned as she lightly asked the question, to glance over her shouldertoward several persons who followed them. 

"One who seeks to apply to the criminal the methods of psychology, psychiatry and anthropology, " he answered with jesting impressiveness. 

She laughed. "But you said this Mr. Steele comes from our part of theworld, did you not, Captain Forsythe?"

"So I understand, Miss Jocelyn. Not much of a person to talk abouthimself, don't you know, "--tentatively stroking an imposing pair ofmustaches, tinged with gray, --"but he has mentioned, I believe, livingin New Zealand; or was it Australia?"

"Australia?" the cold, metallic tones of the third person, a man ofabout three-and-thirty, inquired. "Most likely the other place, or weshould have heard--"

"True, Lord Ronsdale!" said the other man, pausing before a great door. "But here we are. "

"'All ye who enter, etc'" laughed the girl. 

"Not if one comes just to 'do' it, you know, " was the protesting answer. "Quite the thing to take in the criminal courts!"

"When one is only a sort of country cousin, a colonial, just come totown!" she added, waving a small, daintily-gloved hand to the littlegroup of friends who now approached and joined them. "Captain Forsytheis trying to persuade me it is a legitimate part of our slumming plan totake in murder trials, uncle, " she said lightly, addressing the foremostof the new-comers. "Just because it's a fad of his! Speaking of thisacquaintance or friend of yours, Mr. Steele, --you are something of acriminologist, too, are you not, Captain Forsythe?"

"Well, every man should have a hobby, " returned that individual, "and, although I don't aspire to the long name you call me, I confess to aslight amateur interest. "

Lord Ronsdale shrugged his shoulders, as to say, every one to his taste;but the girl laughed. 

"Slight?" she repeated. "Would you believe it, aunt"--to a portly ladyamong those who had approached--"he never misses a murder trial! Ibelieve he likes to watch the poor fellows fighting for their lives, tostudy their faces, their expressions when they're being sentenced, perhaps, to one of those horrible convict ships!"

"Don't speak of them, my dear Jocelyn!" returned that worthy person, with a shudder. "When I think of the _Lord Nelson_, and that awfulnight--"

"You were three days in an open boat before being sighted and picked up, I believe, Lady Wray?" observed Captain Forsythe. 

"Three days? Years!" returned the governor's wife. "At least, theyseemed so to me! I thought every moment would be our last and goodnessknows why it wasn't! How we managed to survive it--"

"Narrow squeak, certainly!" said Lord Ronsdale, his lids loweringslightly. "But all's well that ends well, and--"

"Every one behaved splendidly, " interposed Sir Charles. "You, " gazingcontemplatively at the girl, "were but a child then, Jocelyn. "

She did not answer; the beautiful face had abruptly changed; alllaughter had gone from the clear blue eyes. 

"She is thinking of the convict who saved her!" observed Sir Charles inan explanatory tone to Captain Forsythe. "Quite an interesting episode, 'pon honor! Tell you about it later. Never saw anything finer, orbetter. And the amazing part of it is, the fellow looked like a brute, had the low, ignorant face of an ex-bruiser. He'd gone to the bad, takento drink, and committed I don't know how many crimes! Yet that man, thelowest of the low--"

"You must not speak of him that way!" The girl's hands were clasped; theslender, shapely figure was very straight. Her beautiful blue eyes, fullof varying lights, flashed, then became dimmed; a suspicion of mistblurred the long, sweeping lashes. "He had a big, noble spark in hissoul. And I think of him many, many times!" she repeated, the sweet, gaylips trembling sensitively. "Brave fellow! Brave fellow!" The words fellin a whisper. 

"Fortunate fellow, I should say, to be so remembered by you, MissJocelyn!" interposed Captain Forsythe. "Eh, Ronsdale?"

"Fortunate, indeed!" the thin lips replied stiffly. 

"Pity he should have been drowned though!" Captain Forsythe went on. "Hewould, I am sure, have made a most interesting study in contrasts!"

She, however, seemed not to hear either compliment--or comment, butstood for a moment as in a reverie. "I am almost sorry I was persuadedto come here to-day, " she said at length, thoughtfully. "I don't believeI shall like courts, or, " she added, "find them amusing!"

"Nonsense!" Sir Charles laughed. "I have heard his lordship has a prettysense of humor, and never fails, when opportunity offers, to indulgeit. "

"Even when sentencing people?"

"Well; there is no need of turning the proceedings into a funeral. "

"I don't believe I should laugh at his wit, " said the girl. "And is thisMr. John Steele witty, too?"

"Oh, no! Anything irrelevant from any one else wouldn't be allowed byhis lordship. "

Here Ronsdale lifted his hat. "May happen back this way, " he observed. "That is, " looking at Jocelyn Wray, "if you don't object?"

"I? Not at all! Of course, it would bore you--a trial! You are so easilybored. Is it the club?"

"No; another engagement. Thank you so much for permission to return foryou--very kind. Hope you will find it amusing. Good morning!" And LordRonsdale vanished down the narrow way. 

The others of the party entered the court room and were shown to theseats that Captain Forsythe had taken particular pains to reserve forthem. The case, evidently an interesting one to judge from the number ofpeople present, was in progress as they quietly settled down in theirchairs at the back. From the vantage point of a slight eminence theyfound themselves afforded an excellent and unimpaired view of hislordship, the jury, prisoner, witness and barristers. Presumably thecase had reached an acute stage, for even the judge appeared slightlymindful of what was going on, and allowed his glance to stray toward thewitness. The latter, a little man, in cheap attire flashily debonnaireif the worse for long service, seemed to experience difficulty inspeaking, to hesitate before his words, and, when he did answer, tobetray in his tone no great amount of confidence. He looked weary andsomewhat crestfallen, as if his will were being broken down, orsubjected to a severe strain, the truth being ground out of him by someirresistible process. 

"That's John Steele cross-examining now!" Captain Forsythe whispered tothe girl. "And that's Dandy Joe, as he's called, one of the policespies, cheap race-track man and so on, in the box. He came to the frontin a murder trial quite celebrated in its day, and one I always had myown little theory about. Not that it matters now!" he added with a sigh. 

But the girl was listening to another voice, a clear voice, a quietvoice, a voice capable of the strongest varying accents. She looked atthe speaker; he held himself with the assurance of one certain of hisground. His shoulders were straight and broad; he stood like an athlete, and, when he moved, it was impossible to be unconscious of a certainphysical grace that came from well-trained muscles. He carried his headhigh, as if from a habit of thought, of looking up, not down, when heturned from the pages of the heavy tomes in his study; his face conveyedan impression of intelligence and intensity; his eyes, dark, deep, searched fully those they rested on. 

He had reached a point in his cross-examination where he had almostthoroughly discredited this witness for the prosecution, when turningtoward a table to take up a paper, his glance, casually lifting, restedon the distinguished party in the rear of the room, or rather it restedon one of them. Against the dark background, the girl's golden hair waswell-calculated to catch the wandering gaze; the flowers in her hat, thegreat bunch of violets in her dress added insistent alluring bits ofcolor in the dim spot where she sat. Erect as a lily stem, she lookedoddly out of place in that large, somber room; there, where the harshrequiem of bruised and broken lives unceasingly sounded, she seemed likesome presence typical of spring, wafted thither by mistake. The mancontinued to regard her. Suddenly he started, and his eyes almosteagerly searched the lovely, proud face. 

His back was turned to the judge, who stirred nervously, but waited afraction of a second before he spoke. 

"If the cross-examination is finished--" he began. 

John Steele wheeled; his face changed; a smile of singular charmaccompanied his answer. 

"Your lordship will pardon me; the human mind has its aberrations. Atthe moment, by a curious psychological turn, a feature of anotherproblem seized me; it was like playing two games of chess at once. Perhaps your honor has experienced the sensation?"

His lordship beamed. "Quite so, " he observed unctuously. "I have toconfess that once in a great while, although following a case veryclosely, I have found it possible to consider at the same time whether Iwould later have port or sherry with my canvasback. "

Of course every one smiled; the business of the morning ran on, and JohnSteele, at length, concluded his cross-examination. "I think, yourLordship, the question of the reliability of this man, as a witness, inthis, or--any other case--fully established. "

"Any other case?" said his lordship. "We are not trying any other case. "

"Not now, your Lordship. " John Steele bowed. "I ask your lordship'sindulgence for the"--an instant's ironical light gleamed from the darkeyes--"superfluity. "

"Witness may go, " said his lordship bruskly. 

Dandy Joe, a good deal damaged in the world's estimation, stepped down;his erstwhile well-curled mustache of brick-dust hue seemed to droop ashe slunk out of the box; he appeared subdued, almost frightened, --quiteunlike the jaunty little cockney that had stepped so blithely forth togive his testimony. 

The witnesses all heard, John Steele, for the defense, spoke briefly;but his words were well-chosen, his sentences of classic purity. As thegirl listened, it seemed to her not strange that Captain Forsythe, aswell as others, perhaps, should be drawn hither on occasions when thisman appeared. Straight, direct logic characterized the speech frombeginning to end; only once did a suggestion of sentiment--curt pity forthat gin-besotted thing, the prisoner!--obtrude itself; then it passedso quickly his lordship forgot to intervene, and the effect remained, aflash, illuminating, Rembrandt-like!

Time slipped by; the judge looked at his watch, bethought him of a bigsilver dish filled with an amber-hued specialty of the Ship and Turtle, and adjourned court. His address interrupted by the exigencies of themoment, John Steele began mechanically to gather up his books; his facethat had been marked by the set look of one determined to drive on athis best with a task, now wore a preoccupied expression. The prisonerwhined a question; Steele did not answer, and some one bustled the manout. Having brought his volumes together in a little pile, Steeleabsently separated them again; at the same time Sir Charles and hisparty walked toward the bench. They were met by his lordship andcordially greeted. 

"A privilege, Sir Charles, to meet one we have heard of so often, in theantipodes. "

"Thank you. His lordship, Judge Beeson, m'dear, whose decisions--"

"Allow me to congratulate you, sir!" The enthusiastic voice was that ofCaptain Forsythe, addressing John Steele. "Your cross-examination wasmasterly; had you been in a certain other case, years ago, when theevidence of that very person on the stand to-day--in the main--convicteda man of murder, I fancy the result then would have been different!"

John Steele seemed not to hear; his eyes were turned toward thebeautiful girl. She was standing quite close to him now; he could detectthe fragrance of the violets she wore, a fresh sweet smell so welcome inthat close, musty atmosphere. 

"My niece, your Lordship, Miss Wray. "

Steele saw her bow and heard her speak to that august court personage;then as the latter, after further brief talk, hurried away--

"Sir Charles, let me present to you Mr. Steele, " said Captain Forsythe. "Lady Wray--"

"Happy to know you, sir, " said the governor heartily. 

"Miss Jocelyn Wray, " added the military man, "who, " with a laugh, "experienced some doubts about a visit of this kind being conducive topleasure!"

John Steele took the small gloved hand she gave him; her eyes were verybright. 

"I enjoyed--I don't mean that--I am so glad I came, " said the girl. "Andheard you!" she added. 

He thanked her in a low tone, looking at her hand as he dropped it. "You, --you are making England your home?" His voice was singularlyhesitating!

"Yes. " She looked at him a little surprised. "At least, for the present!But how--" she broke off. "I suppose, though, you could tell by myaccent. I've lived nearly all my life in Australia, and--"

Sir Charles, interrupting, reminded them of an appointment; the partyturned. A slender figure inclined itself very slightly toward JohnSteele; a voice wished him good morning. The man stood with his hands onhis books; it did not occur to him to accompany her to the door. Suddenly he looked over his shoulder; at the threshold, she, too, hadturned her head. An instant their glances met; the next, she was gone. 

 * * * * *

CHAPTER II

AT THE OPERA

When John Steele left the court toward the end of the day, he held hishead as a man who thinks deeply. From the door he directed his stepstoward Charing Cross. But only to wheel abruptly, and retrace his way. He was not an absent-minded man, yet he had been striding unconsciouslynot toward his customary destination at that hour, the several chambersat once his office and his home. For a moment the strong face of the manrelaxed, as if in amusement at his own remissness; gradually however, itonce more resumed its expression of musing thoughtfulness. The stream ofhuman beings, in the main, flowed toward him; he breasted the current ashe had for many evenings, only this night he did not look into the facesof these, his neighbors; the great city's concourse of atoms sweptunmeaningly by. 

Turning into a narrow way, not far from the embankment, he stoppedbefore the door of a solid-looking brick building, let himself in, andmade his way up-stairs. On the third floor he applied another andsmaller key to another lock and, from a hall, entered a large apartment, noteworthy for its handsome array of books that reached from floor toceiling wherever there was shelf space. Most of these volumes weresoberly bound in conventional legal garb but others in elegant, moregracious array, congregated, a little cosmopolitan community, in asection by themselves. 

Passing through this apartment, John Steele stepped into that adjoining, the sitting-and dining-room. The small table had already been set; thesun's dying rays that shot through the window revealed snowy linen, brightly gleaming silver and a number of papers and letters. Theyshowed, also, a large cage with a small bird that chirped as the mancame in; John Steele looked at it a moment, walked to a mirror andlooked at himself. Long the deep eyes studied the firm resolute face;they seemed endeavoring to gaze beyond it; but the present visage, likea shadow, waved before him. The man's expression became inscrutable;stepping to the window, he gazed out on the Thames. A purplish glimmerlent enchantment to the noble stream; it may be as he looked upon it, his thoughts flowed with the river, past dilapidated structures, betweenwhispering reeds on green banks, to the sea!

A discreet rapping at the door, followed by the appearance of around-faced little man, with a tray, interrupted further contemplationor reverie on John Steele's part. Seating himself at the table, heresponded negatively to the servant's inquiry if "anythink" else wouldbe required, and when the man had withdrawn, mechanically turned to hisletters and to his simple evening repast. He ate with no great evidenceof appetite, soon brushed the missives, half-read, aside, and pushedback his chair. 

Lighting a pipe he picked up one of the papers, and for some moments hisattention seemed fairly divided between a casual inspection of the lightarabesques that ascended in clouds from his lips and the heavy-lookingcolumns of the morning sheet. Suddenly, however, the latter dissipatedhis further concern in his pipe; he put it down and spread out the bigpaper in both hands. Amid voluminous wastes of type an item, in thecourt and society column, had caught his eye:

 "Sir Charles and Lady Wray, who are intending henceforth to reside in England, have returned to the stately Wray mansion in Piccadilly, where they will be for the season. Our well-known Governor and his Lady are accompanied by their niece, the beautiful and accomplished Miss Jocelyn Wray, only child of Sir Charles' younger brother, the late Honorable Mr. Richard Wray, whose estate included enormous holdings in Australia as well as several thousand acres in Devonshire. This charming young colonial has already captivated London society. "

John Steele read carefully this bit of news, and then re-read it; heeven found himself guilty of perusing all the other paragraphs; thecomings and goings, the fine doings! They related to a world he hadthought little about; a world within the world; just as the people wholived in tunnels and dark passages constituted another world within theworld. Her name danced in illustrious company; here were dukes and earlsand viscounts; a sprinkling of the foreign element: begums, emirs, thenation's guests. He saw, also, "Sir Charles, Lady Wray and Miss Wray"among the long list of box-holders for that night at the opera, a galaoccasion, commanded by royalty for the entertainment of royalty, and, incidentally, of certain barbarian personages who had come across theseas to be diplomatically coddled and fed. 

Folding his newspaper, John Steele turned to his legal papers; strove toreplace idleness by industry; but the spirit of work failed to respond. He looked at his watch, rang sharply a bell. 

"Put out my clothes, " he said to the servant who appeared with a lamp, "and have a cab at the door. "

The opera had already begun, but pandemonium still reigned about thebox-office, and it was half an hour before John Steele succeeded inreaching the little aperture, with a request for anything that chancedto be left down-stairs. Armed with a bit of pasteboard, Steele wasstopped as he was about to enter. A thunder of applause from within, indicating that the first act had come to an end, was followed by theusual egress of black and white figures, impatient for cigarettes andlight lobby gossip. 

"Divine, eh? The opera, I mean!" A voice accosted John Steele, and, turning, he beheld a familiar face with black whiskers, that of CaptainForsythe. "This is somewhat different from the morning's environment?"

"Yes, " said the other. "But your first question, " with a smile, "I'mafraid I can't answer. I've just come; and, if I hadn't--well, I'm nojudge of music. "

"Then you must look as if you were!" laughed the captain frankly. "Don'tknow one jolly note from another, but, for goodness' sake, don't betrayme. Just been discussing trills and pizzicatos with Lady Wray. "

For a few moments they continued their talk; chance had made them knownto each other some time before, and Captain Forsythe had improved everyopportunity to become better acquainted with one for whom he entertaineda frank admiration. Steele's reserve, however, was not easilypenetrated; he accepted and repaid the other's advances with uniformcourtesy but Forsythe could not flatter himself the acquaintance hadprogressed greatly since their first meeting. 

A bell sounded; John Steele, excusing himself, entered the auditoriumand was shown to his seat. It proved excellently located, and, lookingaround, he found himself afforded a comprehensive view of a spectaclebrilliant and dazzling. Boxes shone with brave hues; gems gleamedover-plentifully; here and there, accentuating the picture, the gorgeouscolors of some eastern prince stood out like the brighter bits in akaleidoscope. Steele's glance swept over royalty, rank and condition. Ittook in persons who were more than persons--personages; it passed overthe impassive face of a dark ameer who looked as if he might havestepped from one of the pages of _The Arabian Nights_, and lingered on abox a little farther to one side. Here were seated Sir Charles and hiswife and party; and among them he could discern the features of JocelynWray--not plainly, she was so far away! Only her golden hair appeareddistinct amid many tints. 

The curtain went up at last; the music began; melodies that seemed bornin the springtime succeeded one another. Perennial in freshness, themefollowed theme; what joy, what gladness; what merriment, what madness!John Steele, in the main, kept his attention directed toward the stage;once or twice he glanced quickly aside and upward; now in the dimness, however, the people in the boxes conveyed only a vague shadowyimpression. How long was the act; how short? It came to a sudden end;after applause and bravos, men again got up and walked out; he, too, left his seat and strolled toward the back. 

"Mr. Steele! One moment!" He found himself once more addressed by thegood-humored Captain Forsythe. "Behold in me a Mercury, committed to animperative mission. You are commanded to appear--not in the royalbox--but in Sir Charles'. "

"Sir Charles Wray's?" John Steele regarded the speaker quickly. 

"Yes, " laughed the other. "You see I happened to mention I had seen you. 'Why didn't you bring him with you to the box?' queried Sir Charles. He, by the by, went in for law himself, before he became governor. 'Only hadtime to shake hands this morning!' 'Yes, why didn't you?' spoke up MissJocelyn. 'You _command_ me to bring him?' I inquired. 'By all means!'she laughed, 'I command. ' So here I am. "

John Steele did not answer, but Captain Forsythe, without waiting for areply, turned and started up the broad stairway. The other, after amoment's hesitation, followed, duly entered one of the larger boxes, spoke to Sir Charles and his wife and returned the bow of their niece. Amid varied platitudes Steele's glance turned oftenest to the girl. Shewas dressed in white; a snowy boa drooped from the slender bareshoulders as if it might any moment slip off; a string of pearls, eachone with a pearl of pure light in the center, clasped her throat. In hereyes the brightness seemed to sing of dancing cadenzas; her lips, slightly parted, wore the faint suggestion of a smile, as if somecanticle or clear cadence had just trembled from them. The small shoethat peeped from beneath silken folds tapped softly to rhythms yetlingering; on her cheeks two small roses unfolded their glad petals. 

"I trust Captain Forsythe did not repeat that absurd remark of mine?"she observed lightly, when John Steele, after a few moments' generaltalk, found himself somehow by her side. 

"About 'commanding'?"

"So he did?" she answered gaily. "He told me he was going to. It is likehim; he poses as a _bel esprit_. Stupid, was it not?"

He answered a word in the negative; the girl smiled; where other menwould press the opportunity for a compliment he apparently found noopening. 

She waved her hand to the seat next to her, and as he sat down--"Isn'tit splendid!" irrelevantly. 

"The spectacle, or the opera?" he asked slowly, looking into blue eyes. 

"It was the opera I meant. I suppose the spectacle is very grand; but, "enthusiastically, "it was the music I was thinking of--how it grips one!Tell me what you think of _The Barber_, Mr. Steele. "

"I'm afraid my views wouldn't be very interesting, " he answered. "I knownothing whatever about music. "

"Nothing?" Her eyes widened a little; in her accent was mild wonder. 

He looked down at the shimmering white folds near his feet. "In earlierdays my environment was not exactly a musical one. "

"No? I suppose you were engaged in more practical concerns?"

He did not answer directly. "Perhaps you wouldn't mind telling mesomething about Rossini's music, Miss Wray?"

"I tell you?" Her light silvery laugh rang out. "And Captain Forsythehas only been telling me--all of us--that you were one of the bestinformed men he had ever met. "

"You see how wrong he was!"

"Quite!" The blue eyes regarded him sidewise. He, the keen, strong man, so assured, so invincible in the court room, sat most humbly by herside, confessing his ignorance, want of knowledge about something everyschool-girl is mistress of! "Or, perhaps, it is because your world is sodifferent from mine! Music, laughter, the traditions of Italian _belcanto_, you have no room for them, they are too light, too trifling. Youare above them, " poising her fair head a little higher. 

"Perhaps they have been above me, " he answered, his tone unconsciouslytaking an accent of gaiety from the lightness of hers. 

The abrupt appearance of the musicians and the dissonances attendant ontuning, interrupted her response; Steele rose and was about to take hisdeparture, when Sir Charles intervened. 

"Why don't you stay?" he asked, with true colonial heartiness. "Plentyof room! Unless you've a better place! Two vacant chairs!"

John Steele looked around; he saw three vacant chairs and took one, alittle aside and slightly behind the young girl, while the governor'swife, who had moved from the front at the conclusion of the previousact, now returned to her place, next her niece. During the act, some onecame in and took a seat in the background; if Steele heard, he did notlook around. His gaze remained fastened on the stage; between him andit--or them, art's gaily attired illusions!--a tress of golden hairsometimes intervened, but he did not move. Through threads like wovenflashes of light he regarded the scene of the poet's fantasy. Did theymake her a part of it, --did they seem to the man the fantasy'sintangible medium, its imagery? Threads of gold, threads of melody! Hesaw the former, heard the latter. They rose and fell wilfully, capriciously, with many an airy and fanciful turn. The man leaned hishead on his hand; a clear strain died like a filament of purest metalgently broken. She breathed a little quicker; leaned farther forward;now her slender figure obtruded slightly between him and the performers. He seemed content with a partial view of the stage, and so remaineduntil the curtain went down. The girl turned; in her eyes was aquestion. 

"Beautiful!" said the man, looking at her. 

"Charming! What colorature! And the bravura!" Captain Forsythe applaudedvigorously. 

"You've never met Lord Ronsdale, I believe, Mr. Steele?" Sir Charles'voice, close to his ear, inquired. 

"Lord Ronsdale!" John Steele looked perfunctorily around toward the backof the box and saw there a face faintly illumined in the light from thestage: a cynical face, white, mask-like. Had his own features not beenset from the partial glow that sifted upward, the sudden emotion thatswept Steele's countenance would have been observed. A sound escaped hislips; was drowned, however, in a renewed outbreak of applause. The divacame tripping out once more, the others, too--bowing, smiling--recipients of flowers. John Steele's hand had gripped his kneetightly; he was no longer aware of the stage, the people, even JocelynWray. The girl's attention had again centered on the actors; she withthe others had been oblivious to the glint of his eyes, the hard, setexpression of his features. 

"Old friend, don't you know, " went on the voice of Sir Charles when thissecond tumult of applause had subsided. "Had one rare adventuretogether. One of the kind that cements a man to you. "

As he spoke, the light in the theater flared up; John Steele, no longerhesitating, uncertain, rose; his face had regained its composure. Heregarded the slender, aristocratic figure of the nobleman in thebackground; faultlessly dressed, Lord Ronsdale carried himself with hishabitual languid air of assurance. The two bowed; the stony glance ofthe lord met the impassive one of the man. Then a puzzled look came intothe nobleman's eyes; he gazed at Steele more closely; his glancecleared. 

"Thought for an instant I'd seen you somewhere before, b'Jove!" hedrawled in his metallic tone. "But, of course, I haven't. Never forget aface, don't you know. "

"I may not say so much, may not have the diplomat's gift of alwaysremembering people to the extent your lordship possesses it, but I amequally certain I have never before enjoyed the honor of being presentedto your lordship!" said John Steele. The words were punctiliouslyspoken, his accents as cold as the other's. An infinitesimal trace ofconstraint seemed to have crept into the box; Steele turned and holdingout his hand, thanked Sir Charles and his wife for their courtesy. 

Jocelyn Wray gazed around. "You are leaving before the last act?" shesaid with an accent of surprise. 

He looked down at her. "Not through preference!"

"Ah!" she laughed. "Business before--music, of course!"

"Our day at home, Mr. Steele, is Thursday, " put in the governor's lady, majestically gracious. 

"And you'll meet a lot of learned people only too glad to talk aboutmusic, " added the young girl in a light tone. "That is, if you weresincere in your request for knowledge, and care to profit by theopportunity?"

His face, which had been contained, impassive, now betrayed in theslightest degree an expression of irresolution. Her quick look caughtit, became more whimsical; he seemed actually, for an instant, askinghimself if he should come. She laughed ever so slightly; the experiencewas novel; who before had ever weighed the pros and cons when extendedthis privilege? Then, the next moment, the blue eyes lost some of theirmirth; perhaps his manner made her feel the frank informality she hadunconsciously been guilty of; she regarded him more coldly. 

"Thank you, " he said. "You are very good. I shall be most glad. "

And bowing to her and to the others he once more turned; as he passedLord Ronadsle, the eyes of the two men again met; those of the noblemansuddenly dilated and he started. 

"B'Jove!" he exclaimed, his gaze following the retreating figure. 

"What is it?" Sir Charles looked around. "Recall where you thought yousaw him?"

Lord Ronsdale did not at once answer and Sir Charles repeated hisquestion; the nobleman mechanically raised his hand to his face. "Yes; amere fugitive resemblance, " he answered rather hurriedly. "Someone--you--you never met. Altogether quite a different sort of person, don't you know!" regaining his drawl. 

"Well, " observed Sir Charles, "fugitive resemblances will happen!"

 * * * * *

CHAPTER III

A LESSON IN BOTANY

John Steele was rather late in arriving at the house of Sir Charles Wrayin Piccadilly the following Thursday. But nearly every one else waslate, and, perhaps knowing the fashionable foible, he had purposely heldback to avoid making himself conspicuous by being prompt. The house, hisdestination, was not unlike other dwellings on that historicthoroughfare; externally it was as monotonous as the average Londonmansion. The architect had disdained any attempt at ornamentation. As iffearful of being accused of emulating his brother-in-art across thechannel, he had put up four walls and laid on a roof; he had given thefront wall a slightly outward curve. In so doing, he did not reason why;he was merely following precedent that had created this incomprehensibleconvexity. 

But within, the mansion made a dignified and at the same time a pleasantimpression. John Steele, seated at the rear of a spacious room, where hea few moments later found himself among a numerous company, lookedaround on the old solid furnishings, the heavy rich curtains and thoseother substantial appurtenances to a fine and stately town house. Thatfunereal atmosphere common to many homes of an ancient period was, however, lacking. The observer felt as if some recent hand, the hand ofyouth, had been busy hereabouts indulging in light touches that relievedand gladdened the big room. Hues, soft and delicate, met the eye hereand there; rugs of fine pattern favored the glance, while tapestries ofFrench workmanship bade it wander amid scenes suggestive of Arcadia. Many found these innovations to their liking; others frowned upon them;but everybody flocked to the house. 

The program on the present occasion included a poet and a womannovelist. The former, a Preraphaelite, led his hearers through dimmazes, Hyrcanian wilds. The novelist on the other hand was direct; infollowing her there seemed no danger of losing the way. At theconclusion of the program proper, an admirer of the poet asked if theiryoung hostess would not play a certain musical something, the theme ofone of the bard's effusions, and at once Jocelyn Wray complied. LordRonsdale stood sedulously near, turning the leaves; Steele watched thedeft hand; it was slim, aristocratic and suggested possibilities inlegerdemain. 

"An attractive-looking pair!" whispered a woman near John Steele toanother of her sex, during a louder passage in the number. "Are they--"

"I don't know; my dear. Perhaps. She's extremely well-off in thisworld's goods, and he has large properties, but--a diminishing income. "She lowered her voice rather abruptly as the cadence came to a pause. The music went on again to its appointed and spirited climax. 

"Was formerly in the diplomatic service, I believe;"--the voice alsowent on--"has strong political aspirations, and, with a wealthy andclever wife--"

"A girl might do worse. He is both cold and capable--an idealcombination for a political career--might become prime minister--withthe prestige of his family and hers to--"

John Steele stirred; the whispering ceased. My lord turned the lastpage; the girl rose and bent for an instant her fair head. And as Steelelooked at her, again there came over him--this time, it may be, notwithout a certain bitterness!--an impression of life and itsjoys--spring-tide and sunshine, bright, remote!--so remote--for him--

A babel of voices replaced melody; the people got up. A number lingered;many went, after speaking to their hostesses and Sir Charles. JohnSteele, at the rear, looked at the door leading into the main halltoward the young girl, then stepped across the soft rugs and spoke toher. She answered in the customary manner and others approached. He wasabout to draw back to leave, when--

"Oh, Mr. Steele, " she said, "my uncle wishes to see you before you go. He was saying he had some--"

"Quite right, my dear!" And Sir Charles, who had approached, took JohnSteele's arm. "Some curious old law books I picked up to-day at abargain and want your opinion of!" he went on, leading the other into alofty and restful apartment adjoining, the library. Steele looked aroundhim; his gaze brightened as it rested on the imposing and finely boundvolumes. 

"You have a superb collection of books, " he observed with a sudden quicklook at his host. 

"Yes; I rather pride myself on my library, " said Sir Charlescomplacently. "Lost a good many of the choicest though, " he went on inregretful tones, "some years ago, as I was returning to Australia. Arare lot of law books, a library in themselves, as well as a largecollection of the classics, the world's poets and historians, went downwith the ill-fated _Lord Nelson_. "

"Ah?" John Steele looked away. "A great mart, London, for fineeditions!" he said absently after a pause. 

"It is. But here are those I spoke of. " And Sir Charles indicated anumber of volumes on a large center table. John Steele handled themthoughtfully and for some time his host ran on about them. A choice copyof one of the Elizabethan poets, intruding itself in that augustcompany, then attracted Steele's attention; he picked it up, weighed andcaressed it with gentle fingers. 

"Who shall measure the influence of--a little parcel like this?" he saidat length lightly. 

"True. " Sir Charles' eye caught the title. "As Portia says: 'It blessethhim that gives and him that takes. ' Excellent bit of binding that, too!But, " with new zest, "take any interest in rare books of the ring, fullof eighteenth century colored prints, and so on?"

"I can't say, at present, that the doings of the ring or the history ofpugilists attract me. "

"That's because you've never seen an honest, hard-fought battle, perhaps?"

"A flattering designation, I should say, of the spectacle of two brutesdisfiguring their already repulsive visages!"

"Two brutes?--disfiguring?"--the drawling voice of Lord Ronsdale who hadat that moment stepped in, inquired. "May I ask what the--talk isabout?"

Sir Charles turned. "Steele was differing from me about a good, old, honest English sport. "

"Sport?" Lord Ronsdale dropped into a chair and helped himself to whiskyand soda conveniently near. 

"I refer to the ring--its traditions--its chronicles--"

"Ah!" The speaker raised his glass and looked at John Steele. The latterwas nonchalantly regarding the pages of a book he yet held; his face washalf-turned from the nobleman. The clear-cut, bold profile, the easy, assured carriage, so suggestive of strength, seemed to attract, tocompel Lord Ronsdale's attention. 

"For my part, " went on Sir Charles in a somewhat disappointed tone, "Iam one who views with regret the decadence of a great national pastime. "

He regarded Ronsdale; the latter set down his glass untasted. "My ownopinion, " he said crisply; then his face changed; he looked toward thedoor. 

"Well, it's over!" the light tones of Jocelyn Wray interrupted; the girlstood on the threshold, glancing gaily from one to the other. "Did youtell my uncle, Mr. Steele, what you thought of his purchase? I see, while on his favorite subject, he has forgotten to offer you a cigar. "

Sir Charles hastened to repair his remissness. 

"But how, " she went on, "did it go? The program, I mean. Have youforgiven me yet for asking you to come, Mr. Steele?"

"Forgiven?" he repeated. Lord Ronsdale's eyes narrowed on them. 

"Confess, " she continued, sinking to the arm of a great chair, "you hadyour misgivings?"

He regarded the supple, slender figure, so airily poised. As she bentforward, he noticed in her hair several flowers shaped like primroses, but light crimson in hue. "What misgivings was it possible to have?" hereplied. 

"Oh, " she replied, "the usual masculine ones! Misgivings, for example, about stepping out of the routine. Routine that makes slaves of men!"with an accent slightly mocking. "And stepping into what? Society! Thebugbear of so many men! Poor Society! What flings it has to endure! Bythe way, did your convict get off?"

"Get off? What--"

"The one you represented--is that the word?--when we were in court. "

"Yes; he was acquitted. "

"I am glad; somehow you made me feel he was innocent. "

"I believed in him, " said John Steele. 

"And yet the evidence was very strong against him! If some one else hadappeared for him--Do you think many innocent people have been--hanged, or sent out of the country, Mr. Steele?" Her eyes looked brighter, herface more earnest now. 

"Evidence can play odd caprices. "

"Still, your average English juryman is to be depended on!" put in LordRonsdale quickly. 

"Do you think so?" An instant Steele's eyes rested on the speaker. "Nodoubt you are right. " A sardonic flash seemed to play on the nobleman. "At all events you voice the accepted belief. "

"I'm glad you defend, don't prosecute people, Mr. Steele, " said the girlirrelevantly. 

"A pleasanter task, perhaps!"

"Speaking of sending prisoners out of the country, " broke in SirCharles, "I am not in favor of the penal system myself. "

"Rather a simple way of getting rid of undesirables--transportation--ithas always seemed to me, " dissented Lord Ronsdale. 

"Don't they sometimes escape and come back to England?" asked the girl. 

"Not apt to, when death for returning stares them in the face, " remarkedthe nobleman. 

"Death!" The girl shivered slightly. 

John Steele smiled. "The penalty should certainly prove efficacious, " heobserved lightly. 

"Is not such a penalty--for returning, I mean--very severe, Mr. Steele?"asked Jocelyn Wray. 

"That, " he laughed, "depends somewhat on the point of view, thecriminal's, or society's!" His gaze returned to her; the bright bit ofcolor in her hair again seemed to catch and hold his glance. "But, " witha sudden change of tone, "will you explain something to me, Miss Wray?Those flowers you wear--surely they are primroses, and yet--"

"Crimson, " said the girl. "You find that strange. It is very simple. Ifyou will come with me a moment. " She rose, quickly crossed the room to adoor at the back, and Steele, following, found himself in a largeconservatory that looked out upon an agreeable, if rather restricted, prospect of green garden. Several of the windows of the glass additionwere open and the warm sunshine and air entered. A butterfly wasfluttering within; in a corner, a bee busied himself buzzing loudlybetween flowers and sips of saccharine sweetness. Jocelyn Wray steppedin its direction, stooped. The sunlight touched the white neck, wherespirals of gold nestled, and fell over her gown in soft, shifting waves. 

"You see?" She threw over her shoulder a glance at him; he looked downat primroses, pale yellow; a few near-by were half-red, or spotted withcrimson; others, still, were the color of those that nodded in her hair. "You can imagine how it has come about?"

He regarded a great bunch of clustering red roses--the winged marauderhovering noisily over. "I think I can guess. The bees have carried thehue of the roses to them. "

"Hue!" cried the girl, with light scorn. "What a prosaic way to expressit! Say the soul, the heart's blood. Some of the primroses have yieldedonly a little; others have been transformed. "

"You think, then, some flowers may be much influenced by others?"

"They can't help it, " she answered confidently. 

"Just as some people, " he said in a low tone, "can't help taking intotheir lives some beautiful hue born of mere casual contact with someone, some time. "

"What a poetical sentiment!" she laughed. "Really, it deserves areward. " As he spoke, she plucked a few flowers and held them out in herpalm to him; he regarded her merry eyes, the bright tints. 

Erect, with well-assured poise, she looked at him; he took one of theflowers, gazed at it, a tiny thing in his own great palm, a tiny, redthing, like a jewel in hue--that reminded him of--what? As through amist he saw a spark--where?

"Only one?" she said in the same tone. "You are modest. And you don'teven condescend to put it in your coat?"

He did so; in his gaze was a sudden new expression, something socompelling, so different, it held her, almost against her will. Heseemed to see her and yet not fully to be aware of her presence; shedrew back slightly. The girl's crimson lips parted as with a suspicionof faint wonder; the blue eyes, just a little soberer, were, also, inthe least degree, perplexed. The man's breast suddenly stirred; abreath--or was it the merest suggestion of a sigh?--escaped the firmlips. He looked out of the window at the garden, conventional, thearrangement of lines one expected. 

When his look returned to her it was the same he had worn when he hadfirst stepped forward to speak with her that afternoon. 

"Thank you for the lesson in botany, Miss Wray!" he said easily. "Ishall not forget it. "

The other primroses fell from her fingers; with a response equallycareless if somewhat reserved, she turned and reëntered the library. Lord Ronsdale regarded both quickly; then started, as he caught sight ofthe flower in John Steele's coat. A frown crossed his face and he lookedaway to conceal the singularly cold and vindictive gleam that sprang tohis eyes. 

 * * * * *

CHAPTER IV

TIDES VARYING

One evening about a fortnight later Lord Ronsdale, in a dissatisfiedframe of mind, strolled along Piccadilly. His face wore a dark look, theexpression of one ill-pleased with fortune's late attitude toward him. Plans that he had long cherished seemed to be in some jeopardy; he hadbegun to flatter himself that the flowery way to all he desired laybefore him and that he had but to tread it, when another, as thesoothsayers put it, had crossed his path. 

A plain man, a man without title! Lord Ronsdale told himself MissJocelyn Wray was no better than an arrant coquette, but the next momentquestioned this conclusion. Had she not really been a little taken bythe fellow? Certainly she seemed not averse to his company; when shewilled, and she willed often, she summoned him to her aide. Nor did henow appear reluctant to come at her bidding; self-assertive though hehad shown himself to be he obeyed, _sans_ demur, the wave of my lady'slittle hand. Was it a certain largeness and reserve about him that hadawakened her curiosity? From her high social position had she wishedmerely to test her own power and amuse herself after a light fashion, surely youth's and beauty's privilege?

But whatever the girl's motive, her conduct in the matter reacted on mylord; the fellow was in the way, very much so. How could he himself paycourt to her when she frivolously, if only for the moment, preferredthis commoner's company? That very afternoon my lord, entering themusic-room of the great mansion, had found her at the piano playing forhim, her slim fingers moving over the keys to the tune of one ofChopin's nocturnes. He had surprised a steady, eloquent look in thefellow's eye turned on her when she was unconscious of his gaze, aglance the ardency of which there was no mistaking. It had altered at mylord's rather quiet and abrupt appearance, crystallized into animpersonal icy light, colder even than the nobleman's own stony stare. He had, perforce, to endure the other's presence and conversation, anundercurrent to the light talk of the girl who seemed, Lord Ronsdalethought, a little maliciously aware of the constraint between the twomen, and not at all put out by it. 

What made the situation even more anomalous to Ronsdale and the lesspatiently to be borne, was that Sir Charles understood and sympathizedwith his desires and position in the matter. And why not? Ronsdale'sfather and Sir Charles had been old and close friends; there werereasons that pointed to the match as a suitable one, and Sir Charles, byhis general manner and attitude, had long shown he would put no obstaclein the way of the nobleman's suit for the hand of his fair niece. As forLady Wray, Lord Ronsdale knew that he had in that practical and worldlyperson a stanch ally of his wishes; these had not become less ardentsince he had witnessed the unqualified success of the beautiful colonialgirl in London; noted how men, illustrious in various walks of life, grave diplomats, stately ambassadors, were swayed by her light charm andimpulsive frankness of youth. And to have her who could have all Londonat her feet, including his distinguished self, show a predilection, however short-lived and capricious, for--

"Confound the cad! Where did he come from? Who are his family--if he hasone!"

Thus ruminating he had drawn near his club, a square, imposing edifice, when a voice out of the darkness caused him abruptly to pause:

"If it isn't 'is lordship!"

The tones expressed surprise, satisfaction; the nobleman looked down;gave a slight start; then his face became once more cold, apathetic. 

"Who are you? What do you want?" he said roughly. 

The countenance of the fellow who had ventured to accost the noblemanfell; a vindictive light shone from his eyes. 

"It's like a drama at old Drury, " he observed, with a slight sneer. "Only your lordship should have said: 'Who the devil are you?'"

Lord Ronsdale looked before him to where, in the distance, near a streetlamp, the figure of a policeman might be dimly discerned; then, withobvious intention, he started toward the officer; but the man stepped infront of him. "No, you don't, " he said. 

The impassive, steel-like glance of Ronsdale played on the man; a white, shapely hand began to reach out. "One moment, and I'll give you incharge as--"

The fellow saw that Ronsdale meant it; he had but an instant to decide;a certain air of cheap, jaunty assurance he had begun to assumevanished. "All right, " he said quickly, but with a ring of suppressedvenom in his voice. "I'll be off. Your lordship has it all your own waysince the _Lord Nelson_ went down. " There was a note of bitterness inhis tones. "Besides, Dandy Joe's not exactly a favorite at headquartersjust now, after the drubbing John Steele gave him. "

"John Steele!" Lord Ronsdale looked abruptly round. 

The fellow regarded him and ventured to go on: "I was witness for thepolice and Mr. Gillett, and he--Steele, " with a curse, "had me on thestand. He knows every rook and welsher and every swell magsman, and alltheir haunts and habits. And he knows me--blame--" he made use ofanother expression more forcible--"if he don't know me as well as ifhe'd once been a pal. And now, " in an injured tone, "Mr. Gillett callsme hard names for bringing discredit, as he terms it, on the force. "

"What's this to me?"

The fellow stopped short in what he was saying; his small eyes glistenedand he took a step forward. "Your lordship remembers the 'Frisco Pet?Your lordship remembers him?" he repeated, thrusting an alert facecloser. 

"I believe there was a prize-fighter of that name, " was the calm reply. 

"I say!" The fellow let his jaw fall slightly; he gazed at the noblemanwith mingled shrewdness and admiration. "Your lordship remembers him_only_, " with an accent, "as a patron of sport. Tossed a quid onhim"--with a look of full meaning--"as your lordship would a bone to adog. Perhaps, " gaining in audacity, "your lordship would be so generousas to throw one or two now at one he once favored with his bounty. "

"I--favored you? You lie!" The answer was concise; it cut like a lash;it robbed the man once more of all his hardihood. He slunk back. 

"Very good, " he muttered. 

Lord Ronsdale turned and with a sharp swish of his cane walked on. Theother, his eyes resentfully bright, looked after the tall, aristocratic, slowly departing figure. 

As the nobleman ascended the steps of his club he seemed again to bethinking deeply; within, his preoccupation did not altogether deserthim. In a corner, with the big pages of the _Times_ before him, he readwith scant interest the doings of the day; even a perennial telegramconcerning a threatened invasion of England did not awaken momentaryinterest. He passed it over as casually as he did the markets, or agrudging, conservative item from the police courts, all that the bluepencil had left of the hopeful efforts of some poor penny-a-liner. Fromthe daily fulminator he had turned to the weekly medium of fun andfooling, when, from behind another paper, the face of a gray-haired, good-natured appearing person, quite different off the bench, chanced tolook out at him. 

"Eh? That you, Ronsdale?" he said, reaching for a steaming glass of hotbeverage at his elbow. "What do you think of it, this talk of aninvasion by the Monseers?"

"Don't think anything of it. "

"Answered in the true spirit of a Briton!" laughed the other. "I fancy, too, it'll be a long time before John Bull ceases to stamp around, master of his own shores, or Britannia no longer rules the deep. But howis your friend, Sir Charles Wray? I had the pleasure of meeting him theother morning in the court room. "

"Same as usual, I imagine, Judge Beeson. "

"And his fair niece, she takes kindly to the town and its gaieties?"

"Very kindly, " dryly. 

"A beautiful girl, our young Australian!" The elder man toyed with hisglass, stirred the contents and sipped. "By the way, didn't I see JohnSteele in their box at the opera the other night?"

"It is possible, " shortly. 

"Rising man, that!" observed the other lightly. "Combination of brainsand force! Did you ever notice his fist? It might belong to aprize-fighter, except that the hands are perfectly kept! You'd know atonce he was a man accustomed to fighting, who would sweep asideobstacles, get what he wanted!"

"Think so?" Lord Ronsdale smoked steadily. "You, as a magistrate, Isuppose, know him well?"

"Should hardly go that far; taciturn chap, don't you know! I don'tbelieve any one really knows him. "

"Or about him?" suggested the other, crossing his legs nonchalantly. 

"Not much; only that he is an alien. "

"An alien?" quickly. "Not a colonial?"

"No; he has lived in the colonies--Tasmania, and so on. But by birthhe's an American. "

"An American, eh? And practising at the British bar?"

"Not the first case of the kind; exceptions have been made before, andaliens 'called, ' as we express it. Steele's hobby of criminology broughthim to London, and his earnestness and ability in that line procured forhim the privilege he sought. As member of the incorporated society thatpasses upon the qualifications of candidates it was my pleasure to sitin judgment on him; we raked him fore and aft but, bless you, he stoodsquarely on his feet and refused to be tripped. "

"So he came to England to pursue a certain line?" said Lord Ronsdalehalf to himself. 

"A man with a partiality for criminal work would naturally look to themodern Babylon. Steele apparently works more to gratify thatpredilection than for any reward in pounds and pence. Must have privatemeans; have known him to spend a deal of time and money on cases therecouldn't have been a sixpence in. "

"How'd he happen to get down in Tasmania? Odd place for a Yankee!"

"That's one of the questions he wasn't asked, " laughingly. "Perhaps whatour Teutonic friends would call the _Wander-lust_ took him there. "Rising, "My compliments to Sir Charles when you see him. "

Lord Ronsdale remained long at the club and the card-table that night;over the bits of pasteboard, however, his zest failed to flare high, although instinctively he played with a discernment that came from longpractice. But the sight of a handful of gold pieces here, of a littlepile there, the varying shiftings of the bright disks, as the vagariesof chance sent them this way or that, seemed to move him in no greatdegree, --perhaps because the winning or losing of a few hundred pounds, more or less, would have small effect on his fortunes or misfortunes. Ata late, or rather, early, hour he pushed back his chair, richer by a fewcoins that jingled in his pocket, and, yawning, walked out. Summoning acab, he got in, but as he found himself rattling homeward to thechambers he had taken in a fashionable part of town, he was aware thatany emotions of annoyance and discontent experienced earlier that night, had suffered no abatement. 

"Tasmania!" The horse's hoofs beat time to vague desultory thoughts; hestared out, perhaps, in fancy, at southern seas, looked up at stars morelustrous than those that hung over him now. Then the divers clusters ofpoints, glowing, insistent, swam around, and he fell into a half doze, from which he was awakened by the abrupt stopping of the cab. Havingpaid the man he went up to his rooms. On the table in an innerapartment, his study, something bright, white, met his gaze: a note inJocelyn Wray's handwriting! Quickly he reached for it and tore it open. 

"A party of us ride in the park to-morrow morning. Will you join us?"

That was all; brief and to the point; Lord Ronsdale frowned. 

"A party!" That would include John Steele perhaps. Once before on amorning, the girl's fair face and dancing eyes had wooed Steele awayfrom his desk, or the court, to the park. 

Should he go? The note slipped from his fingers to the carpet; hepermitted it to lie there; the importance to himself and others of hisdecision he little realized. Could he have foreseen all that wasinvolved by his going, or staying away, he would not so carelessly havethrown off his clothes and retired, dismissing the matter until themorrow, or rather, until he should chance to waken. 

 * * * * *

CHAPTER V

IN THE PARK

Close at hand, the trees in Hyde Park seemed to droop their branches, asif in sympathy with the gray aspect of the day, while afar, across thegreen, the sylvan guardians of the place had either receded altogetherin the gray haze or stood forth like shadowy ghosts. In the foreground, not far from the main entrance, a number of sheep and their youngnibbled contentedly the wet and delectable grass, and as some brightgown paused or whisked past, the juxtaposition of fine raiment and younglamb suggested soft, shifting Bouchers or other dainty French pastoralsin paint. The air had a tang; the dampness enhanced the perfumes, madethem fuller and sweeter, and a joyous sort of melancholy seemed to holda springtime world in its grasp. 

Into this scene of rural tranquillity rode briskly about the middle ofthe morning Jocelyn Wray and others. The glow on the girl's cheeksharmonized with the redness of her lips; the sparkling blue eyes mockedat all neutral hues; her gown and an odd ribbon or two waved, as itwere, light defiance to motionless things--still leaves and branches, flowers and buds, drowsy and sleeping. Her mount was deep black, withfine arching neck and spirited head; on either side of the head, beneathears sensitive, delicately pointed, had been fastened a rose, badge offavor from a bunch nestling at the white throat of the young girl. Sherode with a grace and rhythmical ease suggestive of large experience inthe pastime; the slender, supple figure swayed as if welcoming gladlythe swing and the quick rush of air. Sometimes at her side, again justbehind, galloped the horse bearing John Steele, and, as they went at afair pace, preceded and followed by others of a gay party, the eyes ofmany passers-by turned to regard them. 

"By Jove, they're stunning! It isn't often you see a man put up likethat. "

"Or a girl more the picture of health!"

"And beauty!"

Unconscious of these and other comments from the usual curiouscontingent of idlers filling the benches or strolling along the paths, the girl now set a yet swifter gait, glancing quickly over her shoulderat her companion: "Do you like a hard gallop? Shall we let them out?"

His brightening gaze answered; they touched their horses and for somedistance raced madly on, passed those in front and left them far behind. Now Steele's eyes rested on the playing muscles of her superb horse, then lifted to the lithe form of Jocelyn Wray, the straight shoulders, abit of a tress, disordered, floating rebelliously to the wind. 

As abruptly as she had pressed her horse to that inspiring speed, shedrew him in to a walk. "Wasn't that worth coming to the park for?" shesaid gaily. 

He looked at her, at the flowers she readjusted, at the lips, half-parted to her quick breath. 

"More than worth it. "

"You see what you missed in the past, " she observed in a tone slightlymocking. 

"You were not here to suggest it, " he returned quietly, with gaze onlyfor blue eyes. 

She suffered them to linger. "I suppose I should feel nattered that asuggestion from little me--"

"A suggestion from little you would, I fancy, go a long ways with manypeople. " A spark shone now in the man's steady look; the girl seemed notafraid of it. 

"I am fortunate, " she laughed. "A compliment from Mr. John Steele!"

"Why not say--the truth?" he observed. 

She stroked her horse's glossy neck and smiled furtively at the soft, velvet surface. "The truth?" she replied. "What is it? Where shall wefind it? Isn't it something the old philosophers were always searchingfor? Plato, and--some of the others we were taught of in school. "

He started as if to speak, but his answer remained unuttered; the man'slips closed tighter; a moment he watched the small gloved hand, then hisgaze turned to the gray sky. 

"So you see, I call compliments, compliments, " she ended lightly. 

He offered no comment; the horses moved on; suddenly she looked at him. One of those odd changes she had once or twice noticed before had comeover John Steele; his face appeared too grave, too reserved; she mightalmost fancy a stormy play of emotion behind that mask of immobility. The girl's long lashes lowered; a slightly puzzled expression shone fromher eyes. It may be she had but the natural curiosity of her sex, thather interest was compelled, because, although she had studied this manfrom various standpoints, his personality, strong, direct in some ways, she seemed unable to fathom. The golden head tilted; she allowed animpression of his profile to grow upon her. 

"Do you know, " she laughingly remarked, "you are not very interesting?"

He started. "Interesting!"

"A penny for your thoughts!" ironically. 

"They're not worth it. "

"No?"

He bent a little nearer; she swept back the disordered lock; an instantthe man seemed to lose his self-possession. "Ah, " he began, as if thewords forced themselves from his lips, "if only I might--"

What he had been on the point of saying was never finished; the girl'squick glance, sweeping an instant ahead, had lingered on some oneapproaching from the opposite direction, and catching sight of him, shehad just missed noting that swift alteration in John Steele's tones, thebrief abandonment of studied control, a flare of irresistible feeling. 

"Isn't that Lord Ronsdale?" asked the girl, continuing to gaze beforeher. 

A black look replaced the sudden flame in Steele's gaze; the handholding the reins closed on them tightly. 

"Rather early for him, I fancy, " she said, regarding the slim figure ofthe approaching rider. "With his devotion to clubs and late hours, youknow! Do you, Mr. Steele, happen to belong to any of his clubs?"

"No. " He spoke in a low voice, almost harshly. 

Her brow lifted; his face was turned from her. Had he been mindful hemight have noted a touch of displeasure on the proud face, that sheregarded him as from a vague, indefinite distance. 

"Lord Ronsdale is a very old friend of my uncle's, " she observedseverely, "and--mine!"

Was it that she had divined a deep-seated prejudice or hostility towardthe nobleman hidden in John Steele's breast, that she took this occasionto let him know definitely that her friends were her friends? "Even whenI was only a child he was very nice to me, " she went on. 

He remained silent; she frowned, then turned to the nobleman with asmile. Lord Ronsdale found that her greeting left nothing to be desired;she who had been somewhat unmindful of him lately on a sudden seemedreally glad to see him. His slightly tired, aristocratic face lightened;the sunshine of Jocelyn Wray's eyes, the tonic of youth radiating fromher, were sufficient to alleviate, if not dispel, ennui or lassitude. 

"So good of you!" she murmured conventionally, as Steele droppedslightly back among the others who had by this time drawn near. "Toarrive at such an unfashionable hour, I mean!"

His pleased but rather suspicious eyes studied her; he answered lightly;behind them now, he who had been riding with my lady could hear theirgay laughter. Lord Ronsdale was apparently telling her a whimsicalstory; he had traveled much, met many people, bizarre and otherwise, andcould be ironically witty when stimulated to the effort. John Steele didnot look at them; when the girl at a turn in the way allowed her glancea moment to sweep aside toward those following, she could see he wasriding with head slightly down bent. 

"Good-looking beggar, isn't he, " observed the nobleman suddenly, hisgaze sharpened on her. 

"Who?" asked the girl. 

"That chap, Steele, " he answered insinuatingly. 

"Is he?" Her voice was flute-like. "What is that noise?" abruptly. 

"Noise?" Lord Ronsdale listened. "That's music, or supposed to be!Unless I am mistaken, _The Campbells are Coming_, " he drawled. 

"The Campbells? Oh, I understand! Let us wait!"

They drew in their horses; the black one became restive, eyed withobvious disapproval a gaily bedecked body of men swinging smartly alongtoward them. At their head marched pipers, blowing lustily; behindstrode doughty clansmen, heads up, as became those carrying memories ofbattles won. They approached after the manner of veterans who felt thatthey deserved tributes of admiration from beholders: that in the pipingtimes of peace they were bound to be conquerors still. 

Louder shrieked the wild concords; bare legs flashed nearer; brightcolors flaunted with startling distinctness. And at the sight and sound, the girl's horse, unaccustomed to the pomp and pride of martial display, began to plunge and rear. She spoke sharply; tried to control it butfound she could not. Lord Ronsdale saw her predicament but was powerlessto lend assistance, being at the moment engaged in a vigorous effort toprevent his own horse from bolting. 

The bagpipes came directly opposite; the black horse reared viciously;for the moment it seemed that Jocelyn would either be thrown or that theaffrighted animal would fall over on her, when a man sprang forward anda hand reached up. He stood almost beneath the horse; as it came down ahoof struck his shoulder a glancing blow, grazed hard his arm, tearingthe cloth. But before the animal could continue his rebellious tactics ahand like iron had reached for, grasped the bridle; those who watchedcould realize a great strength in the restraining fingers, the unusualpower of Steele's muscles. The black horse, trembling, soon stood still;the bagpipes passed on, and Steele looked up at the girl. 

"If you care to dismount--"

"Thank you, " she said. "I'm not afraid. Especially, " she added lightly, "with you at the bridle!"

"Few riders could have kept their seats so well, " he answered, withill-concealed admiration. 

"I have always been accustomed to horses. In Australia we ride a greatdeal. "

"For the instant, " his face slightly paler, "I thought something wouldhappen. "

"It might have, " she returned, a light in her eyes, "but for a timelyhand. My horse apparently does not appreciate Scotch airs. "

"Ugly brute!" Lord Ronsdale, a dissatisfied expression on his handsomecountenance, approached. "A little of the whip--" the words werearrested; the nobleman stared at John Steele, or rather at the bare armwhich the torn sleeve revealed well above the elbow. 

The white, uplifted arm suddenly dropped; Steele drew the cloth quicklyabout it, but not before his eyes had met those of Lord Ronsdale andcaught the amazement, incredulity, sudden terror--was it terror?--intheir depths. 

"Told you not to trust him, Jocelyn!" Sir Charles' loud, hearty voice atthe same moment interrupted. "There was a look about him I didn't likefrom the beginning. "

"Perhaps he needs only a little toning down to be fit, " put in CaptainForsythe, as he and the others drew near. "A few seasons with thehounds, or--"

"Chasing some poor little fox!" said the girl with light scorn. 

"One might be doing something worse!"

"One might!" Her accents were dubious. 

"You don't believe in the chase, or the hunt? Allow me to differ; peoplealways must hunt _something_, don't you know; primeval instinct! Used tohunt one another, " he laughed. "Sometimes do now. Fox is only asubstitute for the joys of the man-hunt; sort of sop to Cerberus, as itwere. Eh, Ronsdale?"

But the nobleman did not answer; his face looked drawn and gray; withone hand he seemed almost clinging to his saddle. John Steele's back wasturned; he was bending over the girth of his saddle and his featurescould not be seen, but the hand, so firm and assured a moment before, seemed a little uncertain as it made pretext to readjust a fastening orbuckle. 

"Why, man, you look ill!" Captain Forsythe, turning to Lord Ronsdale, exclaimed suddenly. 

"It's--nothing--much--" With vacant expression the nobleman regarded thespeaker; then lifted his hand and pressed it an instant to his breast. "Heart, " he murmured mechanically. "Beastly bad heart, you know, andsometimes a little thing--slight shock--Miss Wray's danger--"

"Take some of this!" The captain, with solicitude, pressed a flask onhim; the nobleman drank deeply. "There; that'll pick you up. "

"Beastly foolish!" A color sprang to Lord Ronsdale's face; he heldhimself more erect. 

"Not at all!" Sir Charles interposed. "A man can't help a bad liver or abad heart. One of those inscrutable visitations of Providence! But shallwe go on? You're sure you're quite yourself?"

"Quite!" The nobleman's tone was even harder and more metallic thanusual; his thin lips compressed to a tight line; his eyes that lookedout to a great distance were bright and glistening. 

"Are you ready, Mr. Steele?" Jocelyn Wray waited a moment as the othersstarted, looked down at that gentleman. Her voice was gracious; its softaccents seemed to say: "You may ride with me; it is your reward!"

For one restored so quickly to favor, with a felicitous prospect of gaywords and bright glances, John Steele seemed singularly dull andapathetic. He exhibited no haste in the task he was engaged in;straightened slowly and mounted with leisure. Once again in the saddle, and on their way, it is true he appeared to listen to the girl; but hisresponses were vague, lacking both in vivacity and humor. It wasimpossible she should not notice this want of attention; she bit herlips once; then she laughed. 

"Do you know, Mr. Steele, if I were vain I should feel hurt. "

"Hurt?" he repeated. 

"You haven't heard what I have been saying. " Her eyes challenged his. 

"Haven't I?"

"Deny it. "

He did not; again she looked at him merrily. 

"Of course, I can't afford to be harsh with my rescuer. Perhaps"--in thesame tone--"you really did save my life! Have you ever really saved anyone--any one else, shall I say?--you who are so strong?"

A spasm as of pain passed over his face; his look, however, was not forher; and the girl's eyes, too, had now become suddenly set afar. Was shethinking of another scene, some one her own words conjured to mind? Hermood seemed to gain in seriousness; she also became very quiet; and soalmost in silence they went on to the entrance, down the street, to herhome. 

"_Au revoir_, and thank you!" she said there, regaining her accustomedlightness. 

"Good-by! At least for the present, " he added. "I am leaving London, "abruptly. 

"Leaving?" She regarded him in surprise. "To be gone long?"

"It is difficult to say. Perhaps. "

"But--you must have decided suddenly?"

"Yes. "

"While we have been riding home?" Again he answered affirmatively; theblue eyes looked at him long. "Is it--is it serious?"

"A little. "

"Men make so much of business, nowadays, " she observed, "it--it alwaysseems serious, I suppose. We--we are moving into the country in a fewweeks. Shall I--shall we, see you before then?"

"To my regret, I am afraid not. "

"And after"--in a voice matter-of-fact--"I think aunt has put you downfor July; a house party; I don't recall the exact dates. You will come?"

"Shall we say, circumstances permitting--" "Certainly, " a littlestiffly, "circumstances permitting. " She gave him her hand. "_Aurevoir!_ Or good-by, if you prefer it. " He held the little glovedfingers; let them drop. There was a suggestion of hopelessness in themovement that fitted oddly his inherent vigor and self-poise; shestarted to draw away; an ineffable something held her. 

"Good luck in your business!" she found herself saying, half-gaily, half-ironically. 

He answered, hoarsely, something--what?--rode off. With color flaminghigh, the girl looked after him until Lord Ronsdale's horse, clatteringnear, caused her to turn quickly. 

 * * * * *

CHAPTER VI

A CONFERENCE

The book-worms' row, hardly a street, more a short-cut passage betweentwo important thoroughfares, had through the course of many yearsexercised a subtle fascination for pedant, pedagogue or itinerantlitterateur. At one end of the way was rush and bustle; at the other, more rush and bustle; here might be found the comparative hush of thetiny stream that for a short interval has left the parent current. Dustyand musty shops looked out on either side, and within on shelves, orwithout on stands, unexpected bargains lay carelessly about, rareHoraces or Ovids, Greek tragedies, ponderous volumes of the golden ageof the English poets and philosophers. Truth nestled in dark corners;knowledge lay hidden in frayed covers and beauty enshrined herselfbehind cobwebs. 

Not that the thoroughfare, in its entirety, was devoted to books; northat it housed no other people than bibliomaniacs or antiquarians!Higher, above the little shops, small rooms, reached by ricketystairways, offered quiet corners for divers and sundry gentlemen whoseoccupations called for discreet and retired nooks. 

In one of these places, described on the door as "a private, confidential, inquiry office, " sat, on the morning following JohnSteele's ride in the park, a little man with ferret-like eyes at a dustydesk near a dusty window. He did not seem to be very busy, was engagedat the moment in drawing meaningless cabalistic signs on a piece ofpaper, when a step in the hallway and a low tapping at the door causedhim to throw down his pen and straighten expectantly. A client, perhaps!--a woman?--no, a man! With momentary surprise, he gazed on thedelicately chiseled features of his caller; a gentleman faultlesslydressed and wearing a spring flower in his coat. 

"Mr. Gillett?" The visitor's glance veiled an expression ofrestlessness; his face, although mask-like, was tinted with a faintflush. 

The police agent at once rose. "The same, sir, at your service; I--but Ibeg your pardon; unless I am mistaken--haven't we--"

"Yes; a number of years ago on the _Lord Nelson_, " said the caller in ahard matter-of-fact tone. "We were fellow passengers on her, until--"

"We became fellow occupants of one of her small boats! An agingexperience! But won't you, " with that deference for rank and positionthose of his type are pleased to assume, "honor me by being seated, LordRonsdale?"

As he spoke, he dusted vigorously with his handkerchief a chair whichhis caller, after a moment's hesitation, sank into; Mr. Gillett regardedthe one he himself had been occupying; then, in an apologetic mannerventured to take it. "Your lordship is well? Your lordship looks it. Your lordship was, last I heard, in Australia, I believe. A genuinepleasure to see your lordship once more. "

The visitor offered no acknowledgment to this flattering effusion; hislong fingers rubbed one another softly. He looked at the table, thewindow, anywhere save at the proprietor of the establishment, then said:"I saw by an advertisement in the morning papers that you had severedyour connection with the force and had opened this--a privateconsultation bureau. "

"Quite so!" The other looked momentarily embarrassed. "A littlefriction--account of some case--unreliable witness that got tangledup--They undertook to criticize me, after all my faithful service--" Hebroke off. "Besides, the time comes when a man realizes he can do betterfor himself by himself. I am now devoting myself to a small, butstrictly high-class, " with an accent, "clientele. "

Lord Ronsdale considered; when he spoke, his voice was low, but it didnot caress the ear. "You know John Steele, of course?"

The ferret eyes snapped. "That I do, your Lordship. What of him?"quickly. 

The caller made no reply but tapped the floor lightly with his cane, and--"What of him?" repeated Mr. Gillett. 

Lord Ronsdale's glance turned; it had a strange brightness. His nextquestion was irrelevant. "Ever think much about the _Lord Nelson, _Gillett?"

"She isn't a boat one's apt to forget, after what happened, yourLordship, " was the answer. "And if I do say it, her passengers were ofthe kind to leave pleasant recollections, " the police agentdiplomatically added. 

"Her passengers?" The caller's thin lips compressed; a spark seemed toleap from his gaze, but not before he had dropped it. "Among them, ifmemory serves me, were a number of convicts?"

"A job lot of precious jailbirds that I was acting as escort of, yourLordship!"

"But who never reached Australia!" quickly. 

"Drowned!--every mother's son of them!" observed Mr. Gillett, with apossible trace of complacency. "Not that I fancy the country they weregoing to mourned much about that. I understand a strong sentiment'sgrowing out there against that sort of immigration. "

The visitor's white hand held closer the head of his cane; the stickbent to his weight. "_Were_ they all drowned, by the way?" he observedas if seeking casual information on some subject that had partly passedfrom his mind. 

"No doubt of it. They were not released until the second boat got off, and then there was no time to get overboard the life rafts!"

"True. " Lord Ronsdale gazed absently out of the window, through a film, as it were, at a venerable figure below; one of the species _helluolibrorum_ standing before a book-stall opposite. "Recall the day on thatmemorable voyage you were telling us about them--who they were, and soon?"

"Very well, " replied Mr. Gillett, good-humoredly. If his caller cared todiscuss generalities rather than come at once to the business at hand, whatever had brought him there, that was none of his concern. Thesetitled gentry had a leisurely method, peculiar to themselves, ofbroaching a subject; but if they paid him well for his time he couldafford to appear an amiable and interested listener. In this case, thethought also insinuated itself, that his visitor had something of themanner of a man who had been up late the night before; the glint of hiseye was that of your fashionable gamester; Mr. Gillett smiledsympathetically. 

"One, if I recall rightly, " went on Lord Ronsdale, "was known as--let mesee"--the elastic stick described a sharper curve--"the 'Frisco Pet?Remember?" He bent slightly nearer. 

"That I do. Not likely to forget him. Unmanageable; one of the worst!Was transported for life, with death as a penalty for returning. " Aslight sound came from the nobleman's throat. "A needless precaution, "laughed the speaker, "for he's gone to his reward. And so your lordshipremembers--"

"I remember when he used to step into the ring, " said Lord Ronsdale, hisvoice rising somewhat. "Truth is, sight of you brought back oldrecollections. Things I haven't thought of for a long time, don't yousee!"

"Quite so! Delighted, I am sure. I didn't know so much about him then;that came after; except that the gentlemen found him a figure worthlooking at when he got up at the post--"

"Yes; he was worth looking at. " Lord Bonsdale's eyes half closed. "Aheavy-fisted, shapely brute; with muscles like steel. But ignorant--" Helingered on the word; then his glance suddenly lifted--"Had something onhis arm; recall noticing it while the bout was on!"

Mr. Gillett with a knowing expression rose, took a volume from abookcase and opened it. 

"The 'something' you speak of, my Lord, " he observed proudly, "should behere; I will show it that you may appreciate my system; the method Ihave of gathering and tabulating data. You will find an encyclopedia ofinformation in that bookcase. All that Scotland Yard has, and perhaps alittle besides. "

"Really?" The nobleman's eyes fastened themselves on the book. 

"To illustrate: Here's his case. " Gillett's fingers moved lightly overthe page. "'Testimony of Dandy Joe, down-stairs at the time withlandlady who kept the house where the crime was committed. Heard 'FriscoPet, who had been drinking, come in; go up-stairs, as they supposed, tohis own room; shortly after, loud voices; pistol shot. Landlady and Joefound woman, Amy Gerard, dead in shabby little sitting-room. Pet, theworse for liquor, in a dazed condition at a table, head in his hands. Testimony of Joe corroborated by landlady; she swore no one had been inhouse except parties here mentioned, all lodgers. 

"'Private mem. --House in bad neighborhood, near the Adelphi catacombs. Son of landlady, red-headed giant, also one-time prize-fighter, used tolive here; the Pet's last fight in the ring was with him. Later Tom tookto the road; was wanted by the police at the time of the crime for somebrutal highway work--' But, " breaking off, "I am wearying your lordship. Here is what I was especially looking for, the markings on the arm ofthe 'Frisco Pet. Perhaps, however, your lordship doesn't care to listenfurther--"

"Go on!" The words broke sharply from the visitor's lips; then he gave ametallic laugh. "I am interested in this wonderful system of yours. "

Mr. Gillett read slowly: "'On the right arm of the 'Frisco Pet, justbelow the elbow, appears the figure of a man, in sparring attitude, donein sailor's tattooing; about the waist a flag, the stars and stripes intheir accustomed colors; crudely drawn but not to be mistaken by notingfollowing defects and details--' which, " closing the book, "I won'tread. "

His lordship's head had turned; at first he did not speak. "A goodsystem, " he remarked after an interval. "And a very good description, and yet--" His voice died away; for a moment he sat motionless. "But mypurpose--the purpose of my visit--I--we have wandered quite from that. Let us, I beg of you, talk business. "

Mr. Gillett started as if to venture a mild expostulation, but thoughtbetter of the impulse. "What _is_ your lordship's business with me?" heobserved in his most professional tone. 

"I believe"--the visitor moistened his lips--"I believe Imentioned--John Steele when I came in?"

"Your lordship did. "

"It--concerns him. "

"I am all attention, your Lordship. " Mr. Gillett's manner was keen, energetic; if he felt surprise he suppressed it. "Good! your lordship'sbusiness concerns John Steele. "

"For reasons that need not be mentioned, I want to find out all I canabout him. That, I believe, is the sort of work you undertake. The termsfor your services can be arranged later. It is unnecessary to say youwill be well paid. I assume you can command competent and trustworthyhelp, that you have agents, perhaps, in other countries?"

Mr. Gillett nodded. "If your lordship would give me some idea of thescope of the inquiry--"

The long fingers opened, then closed tightly. 

"In the first place, you are to ascertain where John Steele was beforehe came to England; how he got there; what he did. Naturally, if he haslived in a far-away port you would seek to know the ship that broughthim there; the names of the captain and the crew. "

"Your lordship thinks, then, our investigation may lead us to distantlands?"

"Who can tell?" The nobleman's voice was sharp, querulous. "That is whatyou are to find out. "

"It shall be done, your Lordship, " replied the other quickly. "I shallembark in the matter with great zest, and, I may add, interest. "

"Interest?" The nobleman looked at him. "Oh, yes!"

"If I might be so bold, may I ask, does your lordship expect to findanything that would--ahem!--cast any reflection on the high standingJohn Steele is building up for himself in the community, or---"

A shadow seemed to darken the mask-like features of the visitor; hisgaze at once glittering, vaguely questioning, was fastened on the wall;then slowly, without answering, he got up. "Surmises are not to enterinto this matter, " he said shortly. "It is facts, I want--facts!"

"And your lordship shall have them. The case appears simple; not hard toget at the bottom of!" An odd expression shone from the visitor's eyes. "Which reminds me he has left town, " added Gillett. 

"Left town!" Lord Ronsdale wheeled abruptly. "You mean--"

"For a little trip to the continent I should imagine; heard of itbecause he got some unimportant court matter put over. "

"Gone away!" The nobleman, his back to the other, lifted a hand to hisbrow. "When?"

"Last night. "

"It was only yesterday morning I was riding with him!"

"And he didn't mention the matter?"

The visitor did not answer. "Why should he have gone away?" he murmured, half aloud. "Was it because--" He walked to the door; at the thresholdstopped and looked back. "You might begin your inquiry by learning allyou can about this little trip, " he suggested. "And by the by, whateveryou may find out, if anything, you will regard as belonging to meexclusively; to be mentioned, under no circumstances, without mypermission, to any one whosoever--"

"Your lordship!" Mr. Gillett's hurt voice implied the little need forsuch admonition. "In my profession absolute integrity toward one'sclient demands that secrecy should be the first con--"

"It is understood then. Let me hear from you from time to time, " and thenobleman went out. 

Mr. Gillett looked after him, then, reflectively, at the closed door. Outside the sound of shuffling feet alone broke the stillness; beforethe book-stand the bibliomaniac buried his face deeper in the mustypages of an old tragedy. 

 * * * * *

CHAPTER VII

INCIDENTS

Several months went by and John Steele saw nothing further, although heheard often, of Miss Jocelyn Wray. His business to the continent, whatever its nature, had seemed sufficiently important to authorize fromhim to her, in due process of time, a short perfunctory messageregretting his inability to present himself at the appointed hour atStrathorn House. Whether the young girl found in the letter a vaguenesswarranting a suspicion that John Steele preferred the heavy duties ofthe city to the light frivolities of the country matters not; suffice itthe weeks passed and no further invitations, in the ponderous script ofthe wife of Sir Charles, arrived to tempt him from his accustomed ways. But the days of this long interim had not passed altogetheruneventfully; a few incidents, apart from the routine of his work, obtruded themselves upon his attention. 

A number of supposedly prospective clients had called to ask for him athis office during his sojourn on the other side of the channel. That wasto have been expected; but one or two of these, by dint of flattery, orpossibly silver-lined persuasion, had succeeded in gaining access to hischambers. 

"I should like to have a look into John Steele's library; I've heardit's worth while, " one had observed to the butler at the door. "Only abit of a peep around!" His manner of putting his desire, supplemented bya half-crown, left the butler no alternative save to comply with therequest, until the "peep around" began to develop into more than cursoryexamination, when his sense of propriety became outraged and thevisitor's welcome was cut short. 

"He was that curious, a regular Paul Pry!" explained the servant to JohnSteele, in narrating the incident on the latter's return to London. "Seemed specially taken by the reports of the old trials you have on theshelves, sir. 'What an interesting collection of _causes célèbres!_' hekept remarking. 'I suppose your master makes much of them?' He wouldhave been handling of them, too, and when I showed him thedoor--trusting I did right, sir, even if he should happen to be aclient!--he asked more questions before going. "

"What questions?" quietly. 

"Personal-like. But I put a stop to that. "

For a few moments John Steele said nothing; his face, on hisreappearance in London, had looked slightly paler, more set anddetermined, not unlike that of a man, who, strongly assailed, has madeup his mind to do battle to the end. With whom? How many? He might putout his hand, clench it; the thin air made no answer. He regarded theshadows now; they seemed to wave around him, intangible, obscure. A darkday in town, the streets were oppressive; the people below passed likepoorly done replicas of themselves; the rattle of the wheels resembled asullen, disgruntled mumble. 

"You will admit no one to my chambers during my absence in the future, "said Steele at length, to the man, sternly. "No one, you understand, under any pretext whatever; even, " a flicker of grim humor in the deepeyes, "if he should say he was a client of mine!"

The butler returned a subdued answer, and John Steele, after a moment'sthought, stepped to a large safe in the corner, and applying a somewhatelaborate combination, swung open the door. Taking from a compartment abundle of papers carefully rolled, he unfastened the tape, spread themon a table and examined them, one after the other. They made avoluminous heap; here and there on the white pages in bold regularscript appeared the name of a woman; her life lay before him, thevarious stages of an odd and erratic career. At a cabaret at Montmartre;at a casino in the Paris Bohemian quarter; in London--at a variety hallof amusement. And afterward!--wastrel, nomad! Throughout the writing, inmany of the documents, another name, too, a titled name, a man's, oftencame and went, flitted elusively from leaf to leaf. 

The reader looked at this name, wrote a page or two, and inserted them. But his task seemed to afford him little satisfaction; his face wore anexpression not remote from discouragement; none knew better than he theactual value, for his purpose, of the material before him. The chaff, froth, bubble of the case!--almost contemptuously he regarded it. Had hesought the unattainable? Certainly he had left no stone unturned, nostone, and yet the head and front of what he sought had ever escapedhim--should he ever grasp it?--with these new secret activities menacinghim?--harassing the future?

He drew himself up suddenly, as if to shake off momentary doubt ordepression. Replacing his documents in the safe and locking it, hewalked into a room adjoining; in a bare, square place on the wall hungfoils and broadswords, and the only furnishings were the conventionalappointments of a home gymnasium. 

Here, having doffed his street clothes and assumed the scant costume ofthe athlete, for an hour or more he exercised vigorously, every muscleresponding to its task with an untiring ease that told of a perfectsystem of training. As he stood in the glow, breathing deep and full, his figure, with its perfect lines of strength and litheness, the superbbut not too pronounced swell of limb and shoulder, would have been thedelight of the professional expounder of dumb-bells, bars and clubs, asthe most proper medium of "fitness" and condition. Whether he exercisedfor the sake of exercising, or because bodily movement served tostimulate his mind in the consideration of problems of moment, JohnSteele certainly had never been in finer physical fettle than at thisparticular period of his varied and eventful career. Which proved ofservice to him and his well-being, for one night, not long thereafter, he was called upon to defend himself from a number of footpads who setupon him. 

The episode occurred in his own street near a corner, where the shadowswere black at an hour when the narrow way seemed silent and deserted. For a block or more footfalls had sounded behind him, now quickening, then becoming more deliberate, in unison with his own steps, as fromtime to time he purposely altered his pace. Once he had stopped;whereupon they too had paused. A moment he stood looking up at St. Paul's, immense, ominous, casting at that late hour a dim patch ofshadow over scores of pigmy buildings and paltry byways; when he wenton, patter!--patter!--the trailing of feet, inevitable as fate, followedthrough the darkness. But they came no nearer until, abruptly wheeling, he entered the short street where his chambers were located; at the sametime two men, apparently sauntering from the river in that sidethoroughfare, approached him somewhat rapidly, separating slightly asthey did so. 

John Steele seemed oblivious. He moved into a doorway and drawing fromhis pocket a cigar, unconcernedly lighted a match. The fellows looked athim, at the tiny flame; it flickered and went out. They hesitated; hefelt in his pocket, giving them time to move by. They did not do so; ina moment the others from the main highway would join them. As ifdisappointed in not finding what he sought, Steele, looking around, appeared to see for the first time the evil-looking miscreants who hadcame from the direction of the Thames, and striding toward them askedbruskly for a light. One of the fellows thus unceremoniously addressedhad actually begun to feel in his shabby garments for the articlerequired when his companion uttered a short derisory oath. 

It served as a sudden stimulus to him against whom it was directed; theold precept that he who strikes first strikes best, John Steele seemedfully to appreciate. His heavy stick flashed in the air, rang hard; theway before him cleared, he did not linger. But close behind now theothers came fast; his door, however, was near. Now he reached it, fittedthe heavy key. Had it turned as usual, the episode would have beenbrought to a speedy conclusion, but, as it was, the key stuck. Theforemost of those who had been trailing fell upon Steele but soon drewback; one of them, unable to repress a groan, held his hand to a brokenwrist, while from his helpless fingers a knife dropped to the ground. 

A hoarse voice in thieves' jargon, unintelligible to the layman, cursedthem for cowards; John Steele on a sudden laughed loudly, exultantly;whereupon he who had thus spoken from the background stared. Aponderous, hulking fellow, about six feet three, with a shock of redhair and a thick hanging lip, --obviously this one of his assailantspossessed immense, unusual strength. In appearance he was the reverse ofpleasing; his bloodshot eyes seemed to shine like coals from thedarkness, the huge body to quiver with rage or with lust for theconflict. 

"Let me at him, ye--!" he cried in foul and flash tongue, when JohnSteele suddenly called him by name, said something in that selfsamedialect of pickpurses and their ilk. 

Whatever the words or their portent, the effect was startling. Steele'sbulky assailant paused, remained stock-still, his purpose arrested, allhis anger gone out of him. 

"How the--? Who--?" the man began. 

"Call off your fellows!" John Steele's voice seemed to thrill; a fierceelation shone from his glance. "I want to talk with you. It'll be moreworth your while than any prigging or bagging you've ever yet done. "

"Well, I'm blowed!" The man's tone was puzzled; surprise, suspiciongleamed from the bloodshot eyes. "How should a swell gent like youknow--? And you want to talk with me? Here's a gamey cove!"

"I tell you I must talk with you! And it will be better for you, myman--" a sharp metallic click told that the speaker had turned the keyin the lock behind him--"to step in here with me. You needn't be afraidI'm going to nab you; I've got a lay better than hooking you for thedock. As for the others, they can go, for all of me. "

"Oh, they can!" The big man's face expressed varying feelings--vaguewonder; at the same time he began to edge cautiously away. "That wouldbe a nice plant, wouldn't it? Let's out of this, blokies!" suddenly, "this cove knows too much, and--"

"Wait!" Steele stepped slightly toward him. "I want you, Tom Rogers, andI'm going to have you; it'll be quids in your pocket and not Newgate. "

"Slope for it, mates!" The big man's voice rang out; around the cornerin the direction of the Thames the burly figure of a policeman appearedin the dim light. "That's his little game!" and turned. 

But John Steele sprang savagely forward. "You fool! You'll not get awayso easily!" he exclaimed, when one of the others put out a foot. Itcaught the pursuing man fairly and tripped him. John Steele went downhard; his head struck the stone curb violently. 

For some moments he lay still; when at length he did move, to lifthimself on his elbow, as through a mist he made out the broad andsolicitous face of a policeman bending over him. 

"That was a nasty fall you got, sir. "

"Fall?" John Steele arose, stood swaying. "That man!--must notescape--Do you hear? must not!" As he spoke he made as if to rushforward; the other laid steadying fingers on his arm. 

"Hold hard a bit, sir, " he said. "Not quite yourself; besides, they'rewell out of sight now. No use running after. "

Steele moved, grasped the railing leading up the front step; his browthrobbed; a thousand darting pains shot through his brain. But for themoment these physical pangs were as nothing; disappointment, self-reproach moved him. To have allowed himself to go down like that;to have been caught by such a simple trick! Clumsy clod!--and at amoment when--He laughed fiercely; from his head the blood flowed; he didnot feel that hurt now. 

The officer regarded the strong, noble figure moving just a little toand fro, the lips set ironically, the dark eyes that gleamed in thenight as with sardonic derision. 

"Pardon me, sir, " he said in a brisker tone, "but hadn't we better goin? This, I take it, is your house; you can look after yourselfsomewhat, and afterward describe your assailants. Then we'll start outto find and arrest them, if possible!"

"Arrest?" John Steele looked at the officer; his gaze slowly regainedits accustomed steadiness. "I am afraid I can't help you; the darkness, the suddenness of the attack--"

"But surely you must have noticed something, sir; whether they werelarge, or small; what sort of clothes they wore--" The other shook hishead; the man appeared disappointed. "Well, I'll make a report of theattack, but--"

Steele loosened his hold on the railing; he appeared now to haverecovered his strength. "That's just what I don't want you to do. Myname is John Steele, you know of me?" And, as the other returned arespectful affirmative, "It is my desire to escape any notoriety in thislittle matter, you understand? As one whose profession brings him inconnection with these people, the episode seems rather anomalous as wellas humiliating. It might even, " his accents had a covert mocking sound, "furnish a paragraph for one of the comic weeklies. So you see--"Something passed from his hand to the policeman's. 

"I didn't think of that, sir; but I suppose there is something in yourway of looking at it, and as there isn't much chance of getting them, anyhow, without any clue, or description--" his voice died away. 

Walking quickly up the steps John Steele opened the door, murmured aperfunctory "Good night" and let himself in. But as he mounted to hischambers, some of the moment's exultation that had seized him at sightof the man, revived. 

"He has come back--he is here--in London. I surely can lay hands onhim--I must! I will!"

 * * * * *

CHAPTER VIII

A CHANGE OF FRONT

HE found the task no easy one, however, although he went at it with hischaracteristic vigor and energy. Few men knew the seamy side of Londonbetter than John Steele: its darksome streets and foul alleys, itshovels and various habitations. And this knowledge he utilized to thebest advantage, always to find that his efforts came to naught. Thesnares he set before possible hiding-places proved abortive; theartifices he employed to uncover the quarry in maze or labyrinth werefruitless. The man had appeared like a vision from the past, andvanished. Whither? Out of the country, once more? Over the seas? Had hetaken quick alarm at Steele's words, and effected a hasty retreat fromthe scenes of his graceless and nefarious career?

Reluctantly John Steele found himself forced to entertain thepossibility of this being so; otherwise the facilities at his commandwere such that he should most likely, ere this, have been able to attainhis end, find what he sought. Soberly attired, he attracted no verymarked attention in the slums, --breeding spots of the criminal classes;the denizens knew John Steele; he had been there oft before. 

He had, on occasion, assisted some of them with stern good advice ormore substantial services. He was acquainted with these men and women;had, perhaps, a larger charity for them than most people find itexpedient to cherish. His glance had always seemed to read them throughand through, with uncompromising realization of their infirmities, weaknesses of the flesh and inherited moral imperfections. His veryfearlessness had ever commended him to that lower world; it did now, enabling him the better to cast about in divers directions. 

To hear nothing, to learn nothing, at least, very little! One man hadseen the object of Steele's solicitude and to this person, a weazenedlittle "undesirable, " the red-headed giant had confided that London waspretty hot and he thought of decamping from it. 

"'Arter all this time that's gone by, ' he says to me, bitter-like, 'tothink a man can't come back to 'is native 'ome without being spied onfor what ought long ago to be dead and forgot!' But you're not trying tolay hands on 'im, to put 'im in the pen, gov'ner?"

"I?" A singular glint shot from Steele's gaze. "No, no, my man, I'm notseeking him for that. But he didn't say where he expected to go?"

"Not he. "

"Nor what had brought him to London?"

"I expect it was 'omesickness, sir. 'E's been a bad lot, but 'e has aheart, arter all. It was to see 'is mother 'e came back; the old womandrew 'im 'ere. You see 'e had written 'er from foreign parts, but couldnever 'ear; 'cause she had moved; used to keep a place where a woman wasfound--"

"Dead?"

"Murdered!" said the man; John Steele was silent. "And she, 'is mother'ad gone, 'aving saved a bit, out into a peaceable-like little 'amlet, where there weren't no bobbies, only instead, bits of flower gardens andbright bloomin' daffy-down-dillies. But, blime me, when Tom come andfound out where she 'ad changed to, if she 'adn't gone and shuffled off, and all 'e 'ad for 'is pains was the sight of a mound in thechurchyard. "

"Yes; she's buried, " said John Steele thoughtfully, "and all she mighthave told about the woman who was--murdered, is buried with her. "

"But she did tell, sir; at the time, " quickly, "of the trial. "

"True. " The visitor's tone changed. "If you can find Tom, give him thisnote; you'll be well paid--"

"I ain't askin' for that; you got me off easy once and gave me a lift, arter I was let out--"

"Well, well!" Steele made a brusk gesture. "We all need a helping handsometimes, " he said turning away. 

And that was as near as he had come to attainment of his desires. 

Summer passed; sometimes, the better to think, to plan, to keep himselfgirded by constant exercise, he repaired to the park, now neglected byfashion and given over to that nebulous quantity of diverse qualitiescalled the people. Where fine gentlemen and beaux had idled, middle-class nurse-maids now trundled their charges or paused toconverse with the stately guardians of the place. Almost deserted wereroads and row; landau, victoria and brougham, with their variedcoats-of-arms, no longer rolled pompously past; only the occasionaldemocratic cab, of nimble possibilities, speeding by with a fare lentpretext of life to the scene. True, the nomad appeared in everincreasing numbers, holding his right to the sward for a couch as aninalienable privilege; John Steele encountered him on every hand. Once, beneath a great tree, where Jocelyn Wray and he had stopped their horsesto talk for a moment, the bleared, bloated face of what had been a manlooked up at him. The sight for an instant seemed to startle thebeholder; a wave of anger at that face, set in a place where imaginationhad an instant before played with a picture altogether different, passedover him; then quickly went. 

As he strode forward at a swinging pace, his thoughts swept swiftlyagain into another channel, one they had been flowing in when he hadfirst entered the park that day. Above him the leaves rustledceaselessly; their restless movements seemed in keeping with his moodwherein impatience mingled with other and fiercer emotions. Fate hadbeen against him, the inevitable "what must be, " which, in the end, crushes alike Faintheart or Strongheart. Of what avail to square hisshoulders? the danger pressed close; he felt it, by that intuition mensometimes have. What if he left, left the field, this England? Who couldaccuse him of cowardice if in that black moment he yielded to thehateful course and went, like the guilty, pitiable skulkers?

"How do you do, Steele? Just the man I wanted to see!"

Near the main exit, toward which John Steele had unconsciously stepped, the sound of a familiar voice and the appearance of a well-known stockyform broke in, with startling abruptness, on the dark train of thought. 

"Deep in some point of law?" went on Sir Charles. "'Pon honor, believeyou would have cut me. However, don't apologize; you're forgiven!"

"Most amiable of you to say so, Sir Charles!" perfunctorily. 

"Not at all! Especially as our meeting is quite apropos. Obliged to runup to town on a little matter of business; but, thank goodness, it'sdone. Never saw London more deserted. Dined at the club, nobody there. Supped at the hotel, dining-room empty. Strolled up Piccadilly, not asoul to be seen. That is, " he added, "no one whom one has seen before, which is the same thing. But how did you enjoy your trip to thecontinent?"

"It was not exactly a trip for pleasure, " returned the other with aslight accent of constraint. 

"Ah, yes; so I understood. But fancy going to the continent on business!One usually goes for--which reminds me, how would you like to go backinto the country with me?"

"I? It is impossible at the moment for--"

But Sir Charles seemed not to listen. "Deuced dull journey for a man totake alone; good deal of it by coach. You'll find a few salmon tokill--trout and all that. Think of the joy of whipping a stream, afterhaving been mewed up all these months in the musty metropolis! Besides, I made a wager with Jocelyn you wouldn't refuse a second opportunity tobask in Arcadia. " He laughed. "'I really couldn't presume to ask himagain, ' is the way she expressed it, 'but if you can draw a sufficientlyeloquent picture of the rural attractions of Strathorn to woo him fromhis beloved dusty byways, you have my permission to try. '"

"Did she say that?" John Steele spoke quickly. Then, "I am sorry, it isimpossible, but, " in a low tone, "how is Miss Wray?"

"Never better. Enjoying every moment. Jolly party and all that. LordRonsdale and--" Here Sir Charles enumerated a number of people. 

"Lord Ronsdale is there?"

"Yes; couldn't keep him away from Strathorn House now, " he laughed. "Asa matter of fact he has asked my permission to--there!" Sir Charlesstopped, then laughed again with a little embarrassment. "I've nearlylet the cat out of the bag. "

John Steele spoke no word; his face was set, immovable; his lashesshaded his eyes. A flood of traffic at a corner held them; he appearedattentive only for it. The wheels pounded and rattled; the whips snappedand cracked. 

"You mean he has proposed for her hand and she--" Steele seemed to speakwith difficulty--"has consented?"

The noise almost drowned the question but Sir Charles heard. 

"Well, not exactly. She appears complaisant, as it were, " he answered. "But really, I shouldn't have mentioned the matter at all; quitepremature, you understand. Let's say no more about it. And--what was ityou said about going back with me?"

"Yes, " said John Steele with a sudden strength and energy that SirCharles might attribute to the desire to make himself understood abovethe din of the street. "I'll go back with you at"--the latter words, lower spoken, the other did not catch--"no matter what cost!"

Sir Charles dodged a vehicle; he did not observe the light, the fire, the sudden play of fierce, dark passion on his companion's face. 

"Good!" he said. "And when you get tired of 'books in the runningbrooks'--"

Steele's hand closed on his arm. "When do you leave?" he asked abruptly. 

"To-day--to-morrow--Suit your convenience. "

"Let it be to-day, then! To-day!"

Sir Charles looked at him quickly; John Steele's face recovered itscomposure. 

"I believe I have become weary of what your niece calls the 'dustybyways, '" he explained with a forced laugh. 

 * * * * *

CHAPTER IX

AWAY FROM THE TOWN

When John Steele, contrary to custom, set aside, in deciding to leaveLondon that day, all logical methods of reasoning and acted on what wasnothing more than an irresistible impulse, he did not attempt tobelittle to himself the possible consequences that might accrue from hisaction. He was not following the course intelligence had directed; hewas not embarking on a journey his best interests would have prompted;on the contrary, he knew himself mad, foolish. But not for one momentdid he regret his decision; stubbornly, obstinately he set his backtoward the town; with an enigmatical gleam in his dark eyes he lookedaway from the blur Sir Charles and he had left behind them. 

Green pastures, bright prospects! Whence were they leading him? His gazewas now somber, then bright; though more often shadows passed over hisface, like clouds in the sky. 

Outwardly his manner had become unconcerned, collected; he listened toSir Charles' jokes, offered casual comments of his own. He evenperformed his wonted part in relieving the tedium of a long journey withvoluntary contributions to conversations on divers topics in which hedisplayed wide and far-reaching knowledge. He answered the manyquestions of his companion on the different habits of criminals; howthey lived; the possibilities for reforming the worst of the lot; thevarious methods toward this end advocated by the idealist. These andother subjects he touched on with poignant, illuminating comment. 

Sir Charles regarded him once or twice in surprise. "You have seen adeal in your day, " he observed, "of the under world, I mean!" JohnSteele returned an evasive answer. The nobleman showed a tendency todoze in his seat, despite the jolts and jars of the way, and, thereafter, until they arrived at Strathorn the two fellow travelersrode on in silence. 

This little hamlet lay in a sleepy-looking dell; as the driver swungdown a hill he whipped up his horses and literally charged upon thetown; swept through the main thoroughfare and drew up with a flourishbefore the principal tavern. Sir Charles started, stretched his legs;John Steele got down. 

"Conveyance of any kind here, waiting to take us to Strathorn House?"called out the former as he stiffly descended the ladder at the side ofthe coach. 

The landlord of the Golden Lion, who had emerged from his door, returnedan affirmative reply and at the same time ushered the travelers into atiny private sitting-room. As they crossed the hall, turning to theright to enter this apartment, some one in the room opposite, a morepublic place, who had been furtively peering through the half-openeddoor to observe the new-comers, at sight of John Steele drew quicklyback. Not, however, before that gentleman had caught a glimpse of him. Astrange face, indeed, --but the fellow's manner--his expression--the actitself somehow struck the observer, --unduly, no doubt, and yet--A momentlater this door closed, and from beyond came only a murmur of men'svoices over pots. 

"Trap will be in front directly, Sir Charles, " said the landlordlingering. "Meanwhile if there is anything--"

"Nothing, thank you! Only a short distance to Strathorn House, " heexplained to John Steele, "and I fancy we'll do better by waiting forwhat we may require there. But what is the latest news at Strathorn?Anything happened? Business quiet?"

"It 'asn't been so brisk, and it 'asn't been so dull, your Lordship, what with now and then a gentleman from London!"

"From London? Isn't that rather unusual?"

"Somewhat. But as for your lordship's first question, I don't know ofany news, except Squire Thompson told me to inform your lordship hewould have the three hunters he was telling your lordship about, down athis stud farm this afternoon, and if your lordship cared to have a lookat them--"

"If?" cried Sir Charles. "There isn't any 'if. ' Three finer animals mannever threw leg over, judging from report, " he explained to John Steele. "Stud farm's about a mile in the opposite direction from StrathornHouse. Mind a little jog to the farm first?"

"Not at all!" John Steele had been looking thoughtfully toward the doorthat had closed upon the man whose quick regard he had detected. "Only, if you will allow me to make a counter proposal, --Strathorn House, yousay, is near; I am in the mood for exercise, after sitting so long, andshould like to walk there. "

"By all means, " returned the other, "since it's your preference. Prettyapt to overtake you, " he went on, after giving his guest a fewdirections. "Especially if you linger over any points of interest!"

The trap drew up; the two men separated. Sir Charles rattled brisklydown one way, Steele turned to go the other. But before setting out, heasked a casual question or two of the landlord, relating to theoccasional "gentleman from London"; the host, however, appeared to knowlittle of any cosmopolitan visitors who had happened to drift that way, and John Steele, eliciting no information in this regard, finallystarted on his walk. Whatever his thoughts, many quaint andcharacteristic bits of the town failed to divert them; he looked neitherto the right, at a James I. Sun-dial; nor to the left, where a smallsign proclaimed that an event of historical importance had madenoteworthy that particular spot. Over the cobblestones, smoothed by thefeet of many generations, he walked with eyes bent straight before himuntil he reached an open space on the other side of the village, wherehe paused. On either side hedges partly screened undulating meadows, thebroad sweeps of emerald green interspersed here and there with smallgroups of trees in whose shadows cattle grazed. A stream with livelymurmur meandered downward; in a bush, at his approach, a bird began tosing, and involuntarily the man stopped; but only for a moment. Soonrose before him the top of a modest steeple; then a church, within thesanctuary of whose yard old stones mingled with new. He stepped in;"straight on across the churchyard!" had been Sir Charles' direction. John Steele moved quickly down the narrow path; his eye had but time tolinger a moment on the monuments, ancient and crumbling, and onheadstones more recently fashioned, when above, another picture caughtand held his attention. 

Strathorn House! A noble dwelling, massive, gray! And yet one thatlifted itself with charming lightness from its solid, baronial-likefoundation! It adorned the spot, merged into the landscape. Behind, theforest, a dark line, penciled itself against the blue horizon; beforethe ancient stone pile lay a park. Noble trees guarded the walks, threwover them great gnarled limbs or delicately-trailing branches. Between, the interspaces glowed bright with flowers; amid all, a little lakeshone like a silver shield bearing at its center a marble pavilion. 

Long the man looked; through a faint veil of mist, turret and towerquivered; strong lines of masonry vibrated. Wavering as in the spell ofan optical illusion, the structure might have seemed but a figment ofimagination, or one of those fanciful castles sung by the Elizabethanbrotherhood of poets. Did the image occur to John Steele, did he feelfor the time, despite other disquieting, extraneous thoughts, the subtleenchantment of the scene? The minutes passed; he did not move. 

"You find it to your liking?"

A voice, fresh, gay, interrupted; with a great start, he turned. 

Jocelyn Wray, for it was she, laughed; so absorbed had he been, he hadnot heard her light footstep on the grass behind. 

"You find it to your liking?" she repeated, tilting quizzically her fairhead. 

His face changing, "Entirely!" he managed to say. And then, "I--did notknow you were near. "

"No? But I could see that. Confess, " with accent a little derisory, "Istartled you. " As she spoke she leaned slightly back against the lowstone wall of the churchyard; the shifting light through the leavesplayed over her; her eyes seemed to dance in consonance with thatmovement. 

"Perhaps, " he confessed. 

The girl laughed again; one would have sworn there was; oy in her voice. "You must have been much absorbed, " she continued, "in the view!"

"It is very fine. " He saw now more clearly the picture she made: thedetails of her dress, the slender figure, closely sheathed in a garb ofblue lighter in shade than her eyes. 

She put out her hand. "I am forgetting--you came down with my uncle, Isuppose?" in a matter-of-fact tone. "A pleasure we hardly expected! Letme see. I haven't seen you since--ah, when was it?"

He told her. "Yes; I remember now. Wasn't that the day the Scotchbagpipes went by? You had business that called you away. Something veryimportant, was it not? You were successful?"

"Quite. "

"How oddly you say that!" She looked at him curiously. "But shall wewalk on toward the house? I went down into the town thinking to meet myuncle, " she explained, "but as I had a few errands, on account of achildren's fête we are planning, reached the tavern after he had gone. "

"He went to a farm not far distant. "

As he spoke, she stepped into the path leading from the churchyard; itwas narrow and she walked before him. 

"Yes; so the landlord said, " she remarked without looking around. Andthen, irrelevantly, "The others went hunting. Are you a Nimrod, Mr. Steele?"

"Not a mighty one. "

"Oh, you wouldn't have to be that--for rabbits!"

She shot a glance over her shoulder; her eyes were glad; but to the manthey were bright merely with the joy of youth that drops glances likesunshine for all alike. Perhaps he would have found pleasure in thinkingshe appeared gayer for sight of him; but if the thought came, bitterly, peremptorily it was dismissed. Sir Charles' words rang through his mind;Lord Ronsdale!--John Steele's hat shaded his eyes; he stopped to pick asmall flower from the hedge. When he looked up he saw her face nolonger; only the golden hair seemed to flash in his eyes, the beautiful, bright meshes, and the light, slender figure, so graceful, so buoyant, so near he could almost touch it, but moving away, moving from him--

It may be, amid other thoughts, at that moment, he asked himself why hehad come. What had driven him to this folly? Why was he stepping onblindly, oblivious of definite plan or policy, like a man walking in thedark? No, not in the dark; all was too bright. He could see but tooplainly--her!--felt impelled to draw nearer--

But at that instant, she stepped quickly from the byway into the mainroad. "There it is, " she said, pointing with a small white finger. 

He held himself abruptly back. "What?" fell from his lips. 

"The way in, of course, " said the girl. 

He moved now at her side; at the entrance, broad, imposing, she paused;a thousand perfumes seemed wafted from the garden; the rustling ofmyriad wings fell on the senses, like faint cadences of music. The girlmade a courtesy; her red lips curved. "Welcome to Strathorn House, Mr. John Steele!" she said gaily. 

Within the stately house, near a recessed window at the front, a manstood at that moment, reading a letter handed to him but a short timebefore. This document, though brief, was absorbing:

"Shall be down to see you soon. Am sending this by private messenger whomay be trusted. Case coming on; links nearly all complete. Involve a newand bewildering possibility that I must impart to you personally. Havediscovered the purpose of S. 's visit to the continent. It was--"

Lord Ronsdale perused the words more rapidly; paused, on his face anexpression of eagerness, expectancy. 

"So that was it, " he said to himself slowly. "I might have known--"

Voices without caught his attention; he glanced quickly through thewindow. Jocelyn Wray and some one else had drawn near, were walking upthe marble steps. 

"John Steele!" He, Lord Ronsdale, crumpled the paper in his hand. "Here!"

 * * * * *

CHAPTER X

A CONTEST

A few days passed; the usual round of pastimes inseparable from houseparties served to while away the hours; other guests arrived, one or twowent. Lord Ronsdale had greeted John Steele perfunctorily; the other'smanner was likewise mechanically courteous. It could not very well havebeen otherwise; a number of people were near. 

"Come down for a little sport?" the nobleman, his hands carelesslythrust into the pockets of his shooting trousers, had asked with afrosty smile. 

"Perhaps--if there is any!" Steele allowed his glance for the fractionof a moment to linger on Lord Ronsdale's face. 

"I'll answer for that. " A slight pause ensued. "Decided rather suddenlyto run down, didn't you?"

"Rather. "

"Heard you were on the continent. From Sir Charles, don't you know. Pleasant time, I trust?" he drawled. 

"Thank you!" John Steele did not answer directly. "Your solicitude, " helaughed, "honors me--my Lord!"

And that had been all, all the words spoken, at least. To the othersthere had been nothing beneath the surface between them; for the timethe two men constituted but two figures in a social gathering. 

A rainy spell put a stop to outdoor diversions; for twenty-four hoursnow the party had been thrown upon their own resources, to devise suchindoor amusement as occurred to them. Strathorn House, however, waslarge; it had its concert stage, a modern innovation; its armory halland its ball-room. Pleasure seekers could and did find here amplefacilities for entertaining themselves. 

The second morning of the dark weather discovered two of the guests inthe oak-paneled smoking-room of Strathorn House. One of them brushed theash from his cigar meditatively and then stretched himself morecomfortably in the great leather chair. 

"No fox-hunt or fishing for any of us to-day, " he remarked with a yawn. 

The other, who had been gazing through a window at a prospect ofdripping leaves and leaden sky, answered absently; then his attentioncentered itself on the small figure of a boy coming up through theavenue of trees toward a side entrance. 

"Believe I shall run over to Germany very soon, Steele, " went on thefirst speaker. 

"Indeed?" John Steele's brows drew together; the appearance of the ladwas vaguely familiar. He remembered him now, the hostler boy at theGolden Lion. 

"Yes; capital case coming on in the criminal courts there. "

"And you don't want to miss it, Forsythe?"

"Not I! Weakness of mine, as you know. Most people look to novels orplays for entertainment; I find mine in the real drama, unfolded everyday in the courts of justice. "

Forsythe paused as if waiting for some comment from his companion, butnone came. John Steele watched the boy; he waved a paper in his hand andcalled with easy familiarity to a housemaid in an open window above:

"Telegram from London, Miss. My master at the Golden Lion said there'dbe a sixpence here for delivering it!"

"Well, I'll be down in a moment, Impudence. "

The silence that followed was again broken by Captain Forsythe's voice:"There are one or two features in this German affair that remind me ofanother case, some years back--one of our own--that interested me. "

"Ah?" The listener's tone was only politely interrogatory. 

"A case here in London--perhaps you have heard of it? The murder of awoman, once well-known before the footlights, by a one-time champion ofthe ring--the 'Frisco Pet, I think he was called. "

The other moved slightly; his back had been toward Forsythe; he nowhalf-turned. "Yea, I have heard of it, " he said slowly, after a pause. "But why should this case across the water interest you; because it islike--this other one you mention?"

"Because I once puzzled a bit over that one; investigated it somewhat onmy own account, don't you know. "

"In what way?" Steele's manner was no longer indifferent. "I'm ratherfamiliar with some of the details myself, " he added. 

"Then it attracted you, too, as an investigator?" murmured the captainin a gratified tone. "For your book, perhaps?"

"Not exactly. But you haven't yet told me, " in a keen, alert tone, "whyyou looked into it, 'on your own account. ' It seems simple, obvious. Notof the kind that would attract one fond of nice criminal problems. "

"That is just it, " said Captain Forsythe, rising. "It was, perhaps, alittle too simple! too obvious. "

"How, " demanded John Steele, "can a matter of this sort be too obvious?But, " bending his eyes on the other, "you attended the trial of thisfellow?" His tone vibrated a little oddly. 

"The last part of it; wasn't in England when it first came on; and whatI heard of it raised some questions and doubts in my mind. Not that Ihaven't the greatest respect for English justice! However, I didn'tthink much more about the case until a good many months later, whenchance alone drew my attention more closely to it. "

"Chance?"

"Was down in the country--jolly good trout district--when one night, while riding my favorite hobby, I happened to get on thisalmost-forgotten case of the 'Frisco Pet. Whereupon the landlord of theinn where I put up, informed me that one of the villagers in thisidentical little town had been landlady at the place where the affairoccurred. "

"The woman who testified no one had been to her place that nightexcept--" John Steele spoke sharply. 

"This fellow? Quite so. " Captain Forsythe walked up and down. "Now, I'dalways had a little theory. Could never get out of my mind one sentencethis poor, ignorant fellow uttered at the trial. 'Seems as if I couldremember a man's face, a stranger's, that looked into mine that night, your Lordship, but I ain't exactly cock-sure!' 'Ain't exactlycock-sure, '" repeated Captain Forsythe. "That's what caught me. Would aman, not telling the truth, be not quite 'cock-sure'; or would hetestify to the face as a fact?" The other did not answer. "So theimpression grew on me. Can you understand?"

"Hum! Very interesting, Forsythe; very ingenious; quite plausible!"

"Now you're laughing at me, Steele?"

"On the contrary, my dear fellow, go on. "

"The landlady's testimony excluded the face, made it a figment of animagination, disordered by drink!" Captain Forsythe waved his handairily as he stepped back and forth. 

"You went to see this woman?"

"Out of curiosity, and found she was, indeed, the same person. Sheseemed quite ill and feeble; I talked with her about an hour that day. Tried in every way to get her to remember she had possibly let in someother person that night, but--"

"But?"

"Bless you, she stuck to her story, " laughed Captain Forsythe. "Couldn'tmove her an iota. " One of the listener's arms fell to his side; his handclosed hard. "Quite bowled over my little theory, don't you know! Ofcourse I told myself it didn't matter; the man convicted was gone, drowned. However, --" he broke off. A swish of silk was heard in thehallway; Forsythe stopped before the door. 

"Ah, Miss Jocelyn! Haven't you a word in passing?"

She paused, looked in. Amid neutral shades the girl's slender figureshone most insistent; her gown, of a color between rose and pink, waswarm-hued rather than bright, like the tints in an ancient embroidery. Around her neck gleamed a band of old cloth of silver but the warmth oftone did not cease at the argent edge, but leaped over to kiss the faircheeks and soft, smiling lips. "Is this the way you men amuseyourselves?" she asked with a laugh. "Talking shop, no doubt?"

"Afraid we must plead guilty, " said Captain Forsythe. 

"And that is why, " with a quick sidelong glance, drawing her skirtsaround her as she stood gracefully poised, "Mr. Steele appears sointerested?"

"Interested?" The subject of her comment seemed to pull himself togetherwith a start, regarded her. Was he, in the surprise of the moment, justin the least disconcerted by that bright presence, the beautiful cleareyes, straight, direct, though laughing? "Perhaps appearances are--" hefound himself saying. 

"Deceptive!" she completed lightly. "Well, if you weren't interested, Captain Forsythe was. He, I know, is quite incorrigible when you get himon his hobby. "

"Oh, I say, Miss Jocelyn!"

She came forward; light and brightness entered the room with her. "Quite!" The slender figure stood between the two men. "We expect anytime he'll be looking around here next, to find something toinvestigate!"

"Here?" John Steele smiled. "What should he find here?"

"In sleepy Strathorn? True!"

A shrill whistle smote the air; Steele's glance turned to the window. The boy, having delivered his message, had left the door; with lipspuckered to the loud and imperfect rendition of a popular street melody, he was making his way through the grounds. Involuntarily the man's looklingered on him. "A telegram from London? For whom?"

"I'm afraid it's hopeless, Captain Forsythe. Nothing ever happens atStrathorn. " At the instant the girl's laughing voice seemed a littlefarther off. "If something only would--to help pass the time. Don't youagree with me, Mr. Steele?"

"I--" his glance returned to her quickly, "by all means!"

She looked at him; had she detected that momentary swerving from theserious consideration of her light words? Her own eyes turned to thewindow where they saw nothing but rain. She smiled vaguely, stood withher hands behind her; it was he now who regarded her, straight, slender, lithe. There was also something inflexible appearing in that young form, though so replete with grace and charm. 

"To help pass the time!" John Steele laughed. "I--let us hope so. "

There had been moments in the past when she had felt she could not quiteunderstand him; they were moments like these when she seemed to becomeaware of something obscuring, falling before her--between them--thatseemed to hold him aloof from her, from the others, to invest him almostwith mystery. Mystery, --romantic idea! A slight laugh welled from thewhite throat. In these prosaic days!

"By the way, what particular case were you discussing when I happenedby?"

"Nothing very new, " answered the military man, "an old crime perpetratedby a fellow called the--"

"Beg pardon!" A footman stood in the doorway. "Sir Charles' complimentsto the gentlemen, and will they be good enough to join him in armoryhall?"

John Steele turned quickly to the servant, so quickly a close observermight have fancied he welcomed the interruption. "Captain Forsythe's andMr. Steele's compliments to Sir Charles, " he said at once, "and say itwill give them pleasure to comply. That is, " he added, bowing, "withyour permission, Miss Wray. "

She assented lightly; preceded by the girl, the two men left the roomand mounted the broad stairway leading to the second story. 

Armory hall was a large and lofty chamber with vaulted ceiling, thatdated back almost to the early Norman period; its walls, decorated ingeometrical designs, were covered with many varieties of antique weaponsof warfare; halberd and mace gleamed and mingled with harquebus, poleaxor lance. At one end of the hall were ranged in a row suits of armorwhich at first glance looked like real knights, drawn up in companyfront; then the empty helmets dawned on the beholder, transforming theminto mere vacuous relics. 

As Steele and his companion together with Jocelyn Wray entered, soundsof merriment and applause greeted the ear; two men in fencing array whohad apparently just ended a match were the center of an animatedcompany. 

"A little contest with the foils! A fencing bout! Good!" exclaimedForsythe. 

Jocelyn Wray walked over to the group and Forsythe followed. 

"Bravo, Ronsdale!" A number of people applauded. 

"He has won. Now the reward! What is it to be?"

"Not so fast! Here are others. "

"True!" Ronsdale looked around with his cold smile; his glance vaguelyincluded John Steele and Captain Forsythe. 

"Count me out!" laughed the latter. "Not in my line, don't you know, since I joined the retired list!"

"However, there's Steele, " Sir Charles, pipe in hand, remarked. 

Ronsdale had stepped to the girl's side; his eyes, regarding her in theleast degree too steadily, shone with a warmer gleam. She appearedeither not to notice, or to mind; with look unreservedly bright, shesmiled back at him; then her gaze met John Steele's. 

"Do you use the foils, Mr. Steele?"

He moved forward; Lord Ronsdale stood near her, bending over with aslightly proprietary air. 

"I--" Steele looked at them, at the girl's questioning eyes. "Only alittle!"

"Then you must try conclusions with Lord Ronsdale!" called out SirCharles. "As victor over the rest he must meet all comers. "

A light swept John Steele's face; perhaps the situation appealed to acertain sense of humor; he hesitated. 

"Nothing to be put out by, being beaten by Ronsdale, " interposed anobserver. "Had the reputation of being one of the best swordsmen on thecontinent; has even had, I believe, " with a laugh, "one or two littleaffairs of honor. "

"Honor!" Steele's glance swung around, played brightly on the nobleman. 

The latter's face remained impassive; he lifted his foil carelessly andswung it; the hiss that followed might have been construed as achallenge. John Steele tossed aside his coat. 

"Can't promise this contest will be as interesting as the other littleaffairs you speak of!" he laughed. Through the fine, white linen of hisshirt could be discerned the superb swell and molding of the muscles, ashe now, with the gleaming toy in hand, stood before Ronsdale. 

The latter's eyes suddenly narrowed; a covert expectancy made itselffelt in his manner. "Aren't you going to roll up your sleeve?" he askedsoftly. "Usually find it gives greater freedom of movement, myself. "

Steele did not at once reply; in his eyes bent on Ronsdale a questionseemed to flash; then a bolder, more daring light replaced it. "Perhapsyou are right!" he said coolly, and following the nobleman's example hepushed back his sleeve. The action revealed the splendid arm of theperfectly-trained athlete marked, however, by a great scar extendingfrom just above the wrist to the elbow. Lord Ronsdale's eyes fastened onit; his lips moved slightly but if any sound fell from them, it wasrendered inaudible by Sir Charles' exclamation:

"Bad jab, that, Steele! Looks as if it might have been made by anAfrican spear!"

"No. " John Steele smiled, encountering other glances, curious, questioning. "Can't include the land of ivory among the countries I'vebeen in, " he added easily. 

Lord Ronsdale breathed quickly. "Recent wound, I should say. "

"Not very old, " said John Steele. 

"If there's a good story back of it, we'll have it later, " CaptainForsythe remarked. 

"Perhaps Mr. Steele is too modest to tell it, " Ronsdale againinterposed. 

"Your good opinion flatters me. " Steele's eyes met the other's squarely;then he made a brusk movement. "But if you are ready?"

Their blades crossed. Ronsdale's suppleness of wrist and arm, his coldsteadiness, combined with a knowledge of many fine artifices, hadalready made him a favorite with those of the men who cared to backtheir opinions with odd pounds. As he pressed his advantage, the girl'seyes turned to John Steele; her look seemed to express just a shade ofdisappointment. His manner, or method, appeared perfunctory, tooperfunctory! Why did he not enter into the contest with more abandon?Between flashes of steel she again saw the scar on his arm; it seemed toexercise a sort of fascination over her. 

What had caused it, this jagged, irregular mark? He had not said. LordRonsdale's words, "A recent wound--perhaps Mr. Steele is too modest--"returned to her. It was not so much the words as the tone, an inflectionalmost too fine to notice, a covert sneer. Or, was it that? Her browsdrew together slightly. Of course not. And yet she felt vaguely puzzled, as if some fine instinct in her divined something, she knew not what, beneath the surface. Absurd! Her eyes at that moment met John Steele's. Did he read, guess what was passing through her brain? An instant'scarelessness nearly cost him the match. 

"Ten to five!" one of the men near her called out jovially. "Odds onRonsdale! Any takers?"

"Done!"

She saw John Steele draw himself back sharply just in time; she alsofancied a new, ominous gleam in his eyes. His demeanor underwent anabrupt change. If Ronsdale's quickness was cat-like, the other'smovements had now all the swiftness and grace of a panther. The girl'seyes widened; all vague questioning vanished straightway from her mind;it was certainly very beautiful, that agility, that deft, incessantwrist play. 

"Hello!" Through the swishing of steel she heard again the man at herside exclaim, make some laughing remark: "Perhaps I'd better hedge--"

But even as he spoke, with a fiercer thrusting and parrying of bladesthe end came; a sudden irresistible movement of John Steele's arm, andthe nobleman's blade clattered to the floor. 

"Egad! I never saw anything prettier!" Sir Charles came forward quickly. "Met your match that time, Ronsdale, " in a tone the least bantering. 

The nobleman stooped for his foil. "That time, yes!" he drawled. If hefelt chagrin, or annoyance, he concealed it. 

"Lucky it wasn't one of those real affairs of honor, eh?" some one whomRonsdale had defeated laughed good-naturedly. 

Again he replied. Steele found himself walking with Jocelyn Wray towardthe window. Across the room a footman who had been waiting for theconclusion of the contest, and an opportune moment, now approached LordRonsdale and extended a salver. 

"It came a short time ago, my Lord!"

John Steele heard; his glance flashed toward Ronsdale. The telegram, then, had been for--? He saw an inscrutable smile cross the nobleman'sface. 

"Any more aspirants?" the military man called out. 

"Only myself left, " observed Sir Charles. "And I resign the privilege!"

"Then, " said the girl, standing somewhat apart with John Steele, nearone of the great open windows, "must you, Mr. Steele, be proclaimedvictor?"

"Victor!" He looked down. Between them bright colors danced, reflectionsof hues from the old stained glass above; they shone like red rosesfallen from her lap at his feet. For a moment he continued to regardthem; then slowly gazed up to the soft colored gown, to the beautifulyoung face, the hair that shone brightly against the background ofbranches and twigs, gleaming with watery drops like thousands of gems. "Victor!" He--

A door closed quietly as Lord Ronsdale went out. 

 * * * * *

CHAPTER XI

WAYS AND MEANS

The afternoon of that same day there arrived at the village of Strathornfrom London a discreet-looking little man who, descending at the GoldenLion, was shown to a private sitting-room on the second story. Callingfor a half-pint from the best tap and casually surveying the room, hesettled himself in a chair with an air of nonchalance, which a certaineagerness in his eyes seemed to belie. 

"Any mail or message for me, landlord?" he inquired, giving his name, when that worthy reappeared with the tankard. 

"No, sir. "

"Nor any callers?"

"None that I've heard of--" A sound of wheels at that momentinterrupted; the landlord went to the window. "Why, it's his lordship, "he remarked. "And such weather to be out in!" as a sudden gust of rainbeat against the pane. "Lord Ronsdale who is staying at StrathornHouse, " he explained for the stranger's benefit. "And he's coming in!"

The host hurried to the door but already a footstep was heard on thestairway and the voice of the nobleman inquiring for the new-comer'sroom. 

"Right up this way! The gentleman is in here, your Lordship, " calleddown the landlord. Lord Ronsdale mounted leisurely and entered the room. 

"I didn't expect to have the honor of a call from your lordship, " saidthe guest of the Golden Lion, bowing low. "If your lordship hadindicated to me his pleasure--"

The nobleman whipped a greatcoat from his shoulders and tossed it to thelandlord. "Was coming to the village on another little matter, andthought I might as well drop in and see you, " he observed to the guest, "instead of waiting for you to come to Strathorn House. You have thestock-lists and market prices with you?" he queried meaningly. The otheranswered in the affirmative. "Very good, we will consider the matter, and--you may go, landlord. "

But when the innkeeper had taken his departure no further word was saidby the nobleman of securities or values; Lord Ronsdale gazed keenly athis companion. Without, the wind swept drearily down the little windingstreet, and sighed about the broad overhanging eaves. 

"Well, " he spoke quickly, "I fancy you have a little something to tellme, Mr. Gillett?"

"'A little something?'" The latter rubbed his hands. "More than alittle! Your lordship little dreamed, when--"

"Spare me your observations, " broke in the nobleman. "Come at once tothe business on hand. " His voice, though low, had a strident pitch;behind it might be fancied strained nerves. 

"As your lordship knows, good fortune or chance favored me at the start;that is, along one line, the line of general investigation. The specialinquiry which your lordship mentioned, just as he was leaving my office, proved for a time most illusive. "

"You mean the object of John Steele's visit to the continent?"

"Exactly. And the object of that visit solved, I have now a matter ofgreatest importance to communicate, so important it could only beimparted by word of mouth!" The police agent spoke hastily and movednearer. 

"Indeed?" Lord Ronsdale's thin, cold lips raised slightly, but not tosuggest a smile; his eyes met the police agent's. "You have reached aconclusion? One that you sought to reject, perhaps, but that wouldn't bediscarded?"

Mr. Gillett looked at him earnestly. "You don't mean--it isn't possiblethat you knew all the while--?"

The white, aristocratic hand of Lord Ronsdale waved. "Let us start atthe beginning. "

"True, your Lordship, " Mr. Gillett swallowed. "As your lordship isaware, we were fortunate enough in the beginning to find out through ouragent in Tasmania that John Steele came to that place in a littletrading schooner, the _Laura Deane_, of Portsmouth; that he had beenrescued from a tiny uncharted reef, or isle, on December twenty-first, some three years before. The spot, by longitude and latitude, marks, through an odd coincidence, the place where the _Lord Nelson_ met herfate. "

"A coincidence truly, " murmured the nobleman. "But at this stage in yourreasoning you recalled that all on board were embarked in the ships'boats and reached civilization, except possibly--"

"A few of my charges between decks? True; I remembered that. A bad lotof ugly brutes!" Mr. Gillett paused; Lord Ronsdale raised his head. "Thestory of John Steele's rescue, " went on Mr. Gillett, "as told byhimself, " significantly, "was well known in Tasmania and not hard tolearn. A man of splendid intellect, a lawyer by profession, he had beenpassenger on a merchant vessel, the _Mary Vernon_, of Baltimore, UnitedStates. This vessel, like the _Lord Nelson_, had come to grief; afterbeing tossed about, a helpless, water-logged wreck, it had finally beenabandoned. All of those in John Steele's boat had perished except him;some had gone mad through thirst and suffering; others had killed theirfellows in a frenzy. Being of superb physique, having been through muchphysical training--" the listener stirred in his chair--"he managed tosurvive, to reach the little isle, where, according to his story, heremained almost a year. "

"A year? Then he set foot in Tasmania about four years after the _LordNelson_ went down, " observed the nobleman, a curious glitter in hiseyes. "Four years after, " he repeated, accenting the last word. 

"Such were the details gathered in Tasmania, " answered the police agent. 

"Go on, " said Lord Ronsdale. "You subsequently learned with moredefiniteness the actual circumstances of his rescue?"

"From the mate of the _Laura Deane_, the schooner that rescued him fromthe isle, and one of her crew whom I managed to locate at Plymouth, as Ihave informed your lordship by letter, " answered Mr. Gillett. "These mennow furnish lodgings to seamen, and incidentally shanghai a few of themfor dubious craft! Both of them, the mate and the sailor, recalled theman of fine bearing and education whom they found on the little isle, asort of Greek statue, half-clothed in rags, so to speak, who made hispersonality felt at once on these simple, ignorant fellows!" Mr. Gillettpaused to look at Lord Ronsdale, seemed waiting for the latter to saysomething, but the nobleman only leaned forward and pushed at the coalswith a poker. 

"Which brings to my mind the one point, " with emphasis, "that I haven'tbeen able so far to reconcile or to explain. Your lordship, who seems tohave divined a great deal, can, perhaps. A man of fine education andbearing, as I said, yet the other had been--"

"It is your business, not mine, to explain, " interrupted the listener. "Tell all you know. "

"At the spring on the little island the seamen filled their water-butts;this kept them several days, mixing labor with skylarking, during whichtime one of them picked up something, a pouch marked with a name. "

"Which was--?"

Mr. Gillett leaned forward, spoke softly; Lord Ronsdale stared straightahead. "Of course, " he said, "of course!"

"This, I will confess, startled, puzzled me, " continued the police agentafter a pause. "What did it mean? I tried to explain it in a dozendifferent ways but none of them seemed exactly to fit. Then it was thatthe line of special investigation helped. John Steele's outing to whichyou directed my attention was passed on the continent. What did he dothere; was it business; was it pleasure took him there? After a gooddeal of pains, we discovered that he visited a certain large building, centrally located. This proved a starting-point; why did he go there? Atthe top was a studio; from the concierge we learned that he had askedfor the artist. From the artist we ascertained that John Steele hadbought a picture; that he had called several times to watch the painterat his work. So far, so good, or bad! For was it likely John Steele hadcome to Paris to buy a bit of canvas, or was his interest in art assumedto cover his real purpose? When he left the studio, did he, without theknowledge of the concierge, call on some one else in the building?

"This thought led to an inspection of the tenants. They proved of allsorts and kinds; the place was a beehive; hundreds of people entered andleft every day. At this time I happened on an item in a periodical aboutsome remarkable work in a certain line by a high-class medicalspecialist. Here is the paragraph. "

Lord Ronsdale took the slip of paper the other handed him and brieflylooked at it. "You visited this person?"

"Yes, as his office address was mentioned as being in the large buildingwe were interested in. But at the moment I had no suspicion that JohnSteele's pilgrimage to Paris could have been for the purpose ofconsulting, --"

"An eminent specialist in the line of removing birth-marks, " glancing atthe slip of paper, "or other disfigurements--"

"Such as I described to your lordship from the book that day in theoffice, " murmured the police agent. 

For some moments both were again silent; only the sounds of the wind andthe rain, mingled with monotonous creakings, broke the stillness. 

"You say this shipwrecked man was like a Greek statue, half clothed inrags. Perhaps then, " slowly, "since he was only half-clothed therescuers might have noticed--"

"I sought them at once, " with sudden eagerness, "to verify what yourlordship suggests, and I have their full corroboration; what theevidence of their eyes told them, that the rescued man bore on his armthe exact markings described in my book. "

"A coincidence not easily accounted for. " The speaker's tones had arasping sound. "And now--"

"One question, my Lord. He is discerning--knows that you--"

"Knows? Yes; he found that out one day in Hyde Park, never mind how;about the same time I, too, learned something. "

"And yet he deliberately comes down here, dares to leave London where atleast his chances are better for--but why? It is unreasonable; I don'tunderstand. "

"Why?" Lord Ronsdale's smile was not agreeable. "When does a man becomeillogical, stray from the path good reasoning should keep him in? Whendoes he accept chances, however desperate?"

"When?" The police agent's tones expressed vague wonder. "Why, when--there is a woman in the case!" suddenly. 

"A woman, or a girl. "

"Your lordship means--"

"One who is beautiful enough to enmesh any man's fancy, " he spoke as tohimself, "whose golden hair is a web to draw lovers like the fleece ofold; whose eyes like the sunny heavens tempt them to bask in theirlight. "

The words were mocking yet seemed to force themselves from his lips. "When you add that she has high position; is as opulent in the world'sgoods as she is rich in personal--" abruptly he paused. "But this isirrelevant, " he added almost angrily. "Is there anything else you haveto tell me?"

"Only one thing, and it may have no bearing on the case; some one whohas not been seen in these parts in years, the red-headed son of thelandlady where the Gerard murder occurred has been back in London, and--Steele's been looking for him. For what purpose, I don't know. " Thenobleman moved quickly. "But he hasn't found him--yet; apparently thefellow took alarm, knowing the police agent might want him, and vanishedagain. "

Lord Ronsdale moistened his lips; then got up, walked back and forth. Abrisker gust, without, and the tin symbol of the Golden Lion over theentrance to the inn swung with a harsh rattle almost around the bar thatheld it. The nobleman stopped short; from the dim corner where he stoodhis eyes gleamed with animal brightness. 

"And now?" suggested Mr. Gillett. "Your lordship of course knows whatthis means, if your lordship uses the weapons you have in your hands?The penalty for one transported returning to England is--"

"I know, " interrupted the other. "He has, however, dared to come back, to incur that risk. Any plea he could hope to make, " Lord Ronsdale spokewith studied deliberation, "to justify the act, he couldnot--substantiate. " The speaker lingered on the word then went on morecrisply. "He stands in the position of a person who has broken one ofthe most exacting laws of the realm and one which has on all occasionsbeen rigorously enforced. He has presumed to trespass in the highestcircles, to mingle with people of rank, our gentry, our ladies--"

"Then your lordship will--"

"I have made my plans. And--I intend to act. "

"Where?"

"Here. "

"But would it not be better to wait until he returns to London, myLord?"

"And give him more time to--" he broke off. "We act here, at once!"

Lord Ronsdale again seated himself; his face had regained its hard mask;he motioned the other man to draw his chair closer. "I'll tell you howto proceed. "

 * * * * *

CHAPTER XII

FESTIVITIES

The windows in Strathorn House shone bright; from within came the soundof music; in the billiard room, adjoining the spacious hall, a number ofpersons were smoking, playing, or watching the dancers. At one of thetables two men had about finished a game; by the skilful stroke of himwho showed the better score, the balls clicked briskly, separated, andcame together once more. 

"Enough to go out with!" The player, Captain Forsythe, counted hisscore. "Shall we say another, Steele?"

"Not for me!" John Steele placed his cue in the rack. "I'm out for abreath of air. " And he stepped through an open French window, leadingupon a balcony that almost spanned the rear of the house. 

"Mr. Steele seems to be rather out of form to-night. " A plump, shortwoman with doll-like eyes, who had been watching the game from a seatnear-by, now spoke, with subtle meaning in her accents. 

"Quite so. Can't really understand it. Steele can put up a deuced stronggame, don't you know, but to-night--Did you notice how he failed at oneof the easiest shots?"

"That was when Jocelyn Wray looked in, " murmured the other. 

"Miss Wray!" Captain Forsythe set the balls for a practice shot. "Well, Steele's a splendid chap, " he said irrelevantly. 

"You have known him for some time?"

"Not a great while; he's rather a new man, don't you know. But SirCharles is quite democratic; took him up, well, as one might inAustralia, without, " good-naturedly, "inquiring into his family or hisantecedents, or all that sort of rubbish. "

"Indeed?" Her voice was non-committal. "But as for its being rubbish--"

"Oh, I say, Mrs. Nallis!" The other's tone was expostulating. "Strongman; splendid sort of chap, Steele! A jolly good athlete, too! Witnessour little fencing contest of this morning!"

"True! You are an evident admirer of Mr. Steele, Captain Forsythe. Andif I am not mistaken, " she laughed, "others share your opinion. SirCharles, for example, and Jocelyn Wray. She didn't look displeased thismorning, did she? When the contest was over, I mean. Not that I wouldimply--of course, her position and his--so far apart from a socialstandpoint. " A retort of some kind seemed about to spring from thelistener's lips but she did not give him the opportunity to speak; wenton: "Besides, when I came here, I understood a marriage had been, or wasabout to be arranged between Sir Charles' niece and--"

"Not interrupting a bit of gossip, I trust?" a cynical voice inquired;at the same time a third person, who had quietly approached, paused toregard them. 

"Ah, Lord Ronsdale!" Just for an instant the lady was disconcerted. "Gossip?" She repeated in a tone that meant: "How can you?"

He waved his hand; leaned against the table. "Beg your pardon! Verywrong of me, no doubt; only the truth is--" his lashes drooped slightlyto veil his eyes, "I like a bit of gossip myself occasionally!"

"We were talking about your friendly set-to with John Steele, " saidCaptain Forsythe bluntly. 

The nobleman's long fingers lifted, pulled at his mustache; in thebright glare, his nails, perfectly kept, looked sharp and pointed. "Ah, indeed!" he remarked. "Steele is handy with the foils; an all-roundsportsman, I fancy; or once was!" softly. 

"Never heard of him, though, in the amateur sporting world!" observedthe lady. "Never saw his name mentioned in any gentlemen'sevents--tennis or golf tournaments, track athletics, rowing, and allthat. "

"No?" Lord Ronsdale gazed down; half-sitting on the corner of the table, he swung one glossy shoe to and fro. 

"Perhaps he's hiding his light under a bushel?" said the lady. 

The nobleman made a sound. "Perhaps!"

"I was asking Captain Forsythe about his antecedents. No one here seemsto know. Possibly you can enlighten us. "

"I?" Lord Ronsdale's tone was purring. "Why should I be able to? But Isee Miss Wray, " rising and walking toward the door. "My dance, don't youknow. "

She gazed after him. "I wonder why Lord Ronsdale does not approve of, orshall we say, dislikes Mr. John Steele?"

"Eh?--what?--I never noticed. "

"A man notice?" She laughed. "But your game of billiards? You arelooking for some one. If I will do--?"

"Delighted!" he Said with an accent of reserve. 

Meanwhile the principal subject of this conversation had been walkingslowly on the broad stone balcony toward the ball-room; there he hadstopped; then stepping to the balustrade, he stood looking off. Thenight was warm; in the sky, stars seemed trying to maintain their placesbetween dark, floating clouds. Near at hand the foliage shimmered withpale flashes of light; the perfumes of dew-laden flowers were like thoseof an oriental bower. Faint rustlings, soft undertones broke upon theear from dark places; mists seemed drawn like phantom ribbons, now here, now there. He looked at the stars; watched one of them, very small, dropinto the maw of a black-looking monster of vapor. As it vanished thesound of music was wafted from within; John Steele listened; they werebeginning once more to dance. 

He glanced around; splashes of color met the eye; hues that shifted, mingled; came swiftly and went. In the great hall, staring Lelys andKnellers looked down from their high, gilded frames; the glaring lightsof a great crystal chandelier threw a flood of rays over the scene atonce brilliant and dazzling. Steele stepped toward the window, paused;his eyes seemed searching the throng. They found what they sought, aslender, erect form, the gown soft, white, like foam; a face, animated, joyous. For an instant only, however, he saw the beautiful features;then as Jocelyn turned in the dance, around her waist glimpsed a blackband, tipped by slender masculine fingers; above, a cynical countenance. Or was it all cynical now? A brief glance showed more than the habitualexpression, a sedulousness--some passionate feeling? Lord Ronsdale'slook seemed once more to say he held and claimed her; that she was his, or soon would be. 

A fleeting picture; she was gone and other figures intervened. JohnSteele stood with hands tightly clasped. Then his gaze graduallylowered; he moved restlessly back and forth; but the music soundedlouder and he walked away from it, to the end of the balcony and againlooked off--into darkness. 

The moments passed; a distant buzz replaced melody; the human murmur, the scraping of strings. From the forest came a far-away cry, themelancholy sound of some wood-creature. He continued motionless, suddenly wheeled swiftly. 

"That is you, Mr. Steele?" A voice, young, gay, sounded near; JocelynWray came toward him; from her shoulders floated a white scarf. "Youhave come out for the freshness of the garden? Although, " she added, "you shouldn't altogether seclude yourself from the madding crowd. "

"No?" In the eyes that met hers flashed a question, the question that hehad ever been asking himself since coming to Strathorn House, that haddriven him there. 

Did she note the strangeness of the look she seemed to have surprised onhis face? Her own glance grew on the instant slightly puzzled, showed apassing constraint; then her manner became light again. "No. Especiallyas--You are leaving to-morrow, I believe?"

"Yes. " He tried to speak in conventional tones; but his gaze swervedfrom the graceful figure with its dim, white lines that changed andfluttered in the faint breath of air, stealing so gently by them andaway. "My time is almost up; the allotted period of my brief Elysium!"he half-laughed. 

"And yet it was rather hard to get you here, wasn't it? You remember youquite scorned our first invitation, " gaily. 

"Scorned?" In the semi-darkness he could only divine her features. "Thatis hardly the word. "

"Isn't it? Well, then, you had business more important, " she laughed. 

"Not more important, --imperative. " Was his voice, beneath an assumptionof carelessness, just a shade uncertain? again it became conventional. "I--have enjoyed myself immensely. "

"Have you?" She glanced at him; a flicker of light touched the strongface. "So good of you to say so! I believe that answer is the properformula. Invented by our ancestors, " lightly, "and handed down!"

He did not at once reply; again she caught a suggestion of thatsearching look she had noted before, and after a moment the girl turned;walking to a rose-bush that partly screened one end of the balcony, shebent over the flowers. "Of course I might use my influence with my auntto have the time allotted you, as you put it, extended. Especially asyou are so appreciative!" she laughed. "Until after the children's fête, for example! What do you say? Shall I plead for you until then? If youwill promise to make yourself very useful!"

"I--you are very good--but--"

"Don't!" She spread out her hands. "Forgive me for presuming to thinkthat Strathorn House and its poor attractions could longer keep Mr. JohnSteele from smoky London-town and the drone of its courts!"

"It is not that"--he began, stopped. 

"Go; we abandon you to your fate. " It may be that he had made her feelshe had been somewhat over gracious, as he had, once or twicebefore, --that night at the opera, when they had first met; afterward ontaking leave of him on the return from Hyde Park. But she only laughedagain, perhaps a little constrainedly this time. "You will miss therevival of a few old rural pastimes!" she went on. "That sounds quitetrivial to you though, does it not? Several of our present guests willstay, however; others are coming; Lord Ronsdale, " lightly, "has evenbegged to remain; we shall probably lead the old country-dance. "

"Lord Ronsdale!--You!"--The flame again played in the dark eyes, morestrongly now, no longer to be suppressed. 

"Mr. Steele!" Her brows arched in sudden surprise; she drew back alittle. 

He seemed about to speak but with an effort checked himself and lookeddown. "I beg your pardon. " His face was half-turned; for a moment he didnot go on. "I beg your pardon. " He again raised his head; his face wassteady, very steady now; his words too. "Your mentioning Lord Ronsdalereminded me of a social obligation; which I have neglected, orforgotten; the pleasure, " with a slight laugh, "of congratulatingyou--is that the word? Or Lord Ronsdale, --he, I believe, is the one tobe congratulated!"

"Congratulated?" Her face had changed, grown colder. His hand graspedthe stone balustrade, but he forced a smile to his lips. "I can notimagine who has started--why you speak thus. Lord Ronsdale is an oldfriend of my uncle, and--mine, too. But that is all; I am not--have notbeen. You are mistaken. "

"Mistaken?" The word broke from him quickly; the strained expression ofhis face gave way to another he could ill conceal. Before the light inhis gaze, the fire, the ardency, her own slowly fell; she turnedslightly as if to go. But he made no effort to stop her, spoke no word. She took a step, hesitated; John Steele moved. 

"Good-by, " he said slowly. "I am leaving rather early in the morning; Ishall not see you again. "

"Good-by. " She raised her head with outward assurance. "At least untilwe meet in London, " she ended lightly. 

"That may not be--"

"Why, you are not thinking of leaving London?" with gaiety perhaps atrifle forced, "of deserting your dingy metropolis?"

He did not answer; she looked at him quickly; something in his face heldher; a little of the lightness went from hers. 

"Once more, good-by, Miss--Jocelyn. "

His look was now resolute; but his voice lingered on her name. Heextended his hand in the matter-of-fact manner of one who knew very wellwhat he had to do; the girl's eyes widened on him. Did she realize hewas saying "Good-by" to her for all time? She held her head higher, pressed her lips slightly closer. Then she sought to withdraw her handbut he, as hardly knowing what he did, or yielding to sudden, irresistible temptation, clasped for an instant the slim fingers closer;they seemed to quiver in his. The girl's figure moved somewhat from him;she stood almost amid the roses, dark spots that nodded around her. Thebush was a mass of bloom; did she tremble ever so slightly? Or was itbut the fine, sensitive petals behind her that stirred when kissed bythe sweet-scented breeze?

John Steele breathed deeply; he continued to regard her, so fair, sobeautiful! A leaf fell; she made a movement; it seemed to awaken him torealization. He started and threw back his head; the dark, glowing eyesbecame once more resolute. An instant, and he bent; a breath, or hislips, swept the delicate, white fingers; then he dropped them. Her handswung back against the cold stone; on her breast, something bright--anornament--fluttered, became still. Behind, a bird chirped; her glanceturned toward the ball-room. 

"I--"

Other voices, loud, merry, coming from one of the open French windowsinterrupted. 

"Jocelyn!" They called to her; faces looked out. "Jocelyn!"

"Yes!" She was walking rapidly from him now, a laugh, a little forced, on her lips. 

On the balcony a number of persons appeared. "A cotillion! We're goingto have a cotillion; that is, if you--"

"Of course, if you wish. " The gay group surrounded her; light, heedlessvoices mingled; then she, all of them, vanished into the ball-room. 

John Steele moved slowly down the stone steps leading to the gardenbelow. One thought vibrated in his mind. Sir Charles had erred when hetold him that day in the park of his niece and Ronsdale. Perhaps becausethe wish was father to the thought--But the girl's own assurancedispelled all doubts and fears. He, John Steele, had been mistaken. Those were her words, "Mistaken!"

He could go away now, gladly, gladly! No; not that, perhaps; but hecould go. If need be, --far from England; never to be seen, heard of, more by her. He could go, and she would never know she had honored byher friendship, had sheltered beneath her roof, one who--As he walkeddown the dimly lighted path somebody--a man--standing under the trees, at one side, at that moment touched his arm. 

"I should like to speak with you, sir!" said a voice, and turning with aquick jerk, Steele saw the familiar features of Gillett, the formerpolice agent; behind him, other men. 

"What do you want?"

The Scotland Yard man coughed significantly. "Out here is a nice, quietplace for a word, or so, " he said in his blandest manner. "And if youwill be so good--"

John Steele's reply was as emphatic as it was sudden; he had beendreaming; the awakening had come. A glint like lightning flashed fromhis eyes; well, here was something tangible to be grappled with! A laughburst from his throat; with the quickness of thought he launched himselfforward. 

 * * * * *

CHAPTER XIII

THE PRINCESS SUITE

A House maid, some time later that night, moved noiselessly over theheavy rugs in the boudoir of the princess suite, next to armory hall onthe second story of Strathorn House. Glancing nervously about her fromtime to time, the woman trimmed a candle here and set another there;then lifted with ponderous brass tongs a few coals and placed them onthe smoldering bed in the delicately tinted fireplace. After which shestood before it in the attitude of one who is waiting though not withstolid and undisturbed patience. 

A clock ticked loudly on the mantel; she looked at it, around her at theshadows of two beautiful marbles on pedestals of malachite. Moving intothe bedroom beyond, she took from a wardrobe of old French workmanship arose dressing-gown; this, and a pair of slippers of like color shebrought out and placed near the fire. As she did so, she started, straightened suddenly; then her expression changed; the voice of LordRonsdale without was followed by that of Jocelyn Wray. 

"Never fear! They'll get the fellow yet, " my lord had said. 

Jocelyn answered mechanically; the door opened; the maid caught aglimpse of Ronsdale's face, of the cold eyes that looked the least bitannoyed. 

"Although it was most bungling on their part to have permitted him toget away!" he went on. "I hope, however, this little unexpected episodewon't disturb your rest. " An instant the steely eyes seemed tocontemplate her closer. "Many going away to-morrow?" he asked, as if todivert her thoughts from the exciting experience of the evening beforeleaving her. 

"Only Captain Forsythe and--Mr. Steele. "

Did he notice the slightest hesitation, on her part, before speaking thelast name? My lord's eyes fell; an odd expression appeared on his face. He murmured a few last perfunctory words; then--"They'll get him yet. Hecan't get away, " he repeated. The words had a singular, a sibilantsound; he bowed deferentially and strode off, not toward his ownchamber, however, but toward the great stairway leading down to thefirst story. 

As the door closed behind her young mistress, the maid came quicklyforward. "Did you learn anything more, Miss Jocelyn, if I may be so boldas to ask, from the police agent? Who the criminal was, or--"

"The police agent only said he was an ex-convict, no ordinary one, whohad escaped from London and was making for the sea. They got word he wasat the village and followed him there but he managed to elude them andthey traced him to Strathorn House park, where he had taken refuge. Thepolice did not acquaint Sir Charles, Lord Ronsdale or any one with theirpurpose, thinking not to alarm us needlessly beforehand. And--I believethat is all. "

A moment the woman waited. "I--shall I--"

The girl looked before her; tiny flames from the grate heightened thesheen on her gown; they threw passing lights on the somewhat tired, proud face. "I shall not need you, Dobson, " she said. "You may go. Amoment. " The woman, who had half-turned, waited; Jocelyn's glance hadlowered to the fire; in its reflection her slim, delicate fingers wererosy. She unclasped them, smoothed the brocade absently with one hand. "One or two are leaving early to-morrow. You will see--you will giveinstructions that everything is provided for their comfort. "

The maid responded and left the room; Jocelyn stood as if wrapped inreverie. At length she stirred suddenly and extinguishing all but onedim light, sank back into a chair. Her eyes half closed, then shutentirely. One might have thought her sleeping, except that her breathingwas not deep enough; the golden head remained motionless against thesoft pink of the dressing-gown; the hand that dropped limply from thewhite wrist over the arm of the chair did not stir. Around, all wasstillness; time passed; then a faint shout from somewhere in thegardens, far off, aroused her. The girl looked around; but immediatelysilence again reigned; she got up. 

Leaning against the shaft holding one of the marbles, she regardedwithout seeing a chaste, youthful Canova, and beyond, painted on boardsand set against satin, a Botticelli face, spiritual, sphinx-like. Herbrows were slightly drawn; she breathed deeply now, as if there weresomething in the place, its quiescence, the immobility of the lovely butghost-like semblance of faces with which it was peopled that oppressedher. She seemed to be thinking, or questioning herself, when suddenlyher attention was attracted again by a sound of a different kind, or wasit only fancy? She looked toward a large Flemish tapestry covering oneentire end of the room; behind the antique landscape in green threadsshe knew there was a disused door leading into armory hall. Drawing backthe heavy folds she stepped a little behind them; the door was lockedand bolted; moreover, several heavy nails had fastened it, completelyisolating her suite, as it were, from that spacious, general apartment. 

Again the sound! This time she placed it--the creaking of the giantbranch of ivy that ran up and around her own balcony. The girl pausedirresolutely, her hand on the heavy ancient hanging. Leaning forward shewaited; but the noise stopped; she heard nothing more, told herself itwas nothing and was about to move out again when her gaze was suddenlyheld by something that passed like a shadow--a man's arm?--on the otherside of the nearest window, between the modern French curtains, notquite drawn together. 

In that inconsiderable space between the silk fringes she was sure shehad seen it, and anything suggestive of _dolce far niente_ disappearedfrom the girl's blue eyes. The window opened wider, noiselessly butquickly; then a hand, strong, shapely, pushed the curtains aside. Hadthe intruder first satisfied himself that the room was vacant? He actedas one certain of his ground; now drawing the window draperies quicklytogether behind him as if seeking to escape observation from any onebelow, he stepped out into the room. 

Something he saw seemed to surprise him; a low exclamation fell from hislips; his eyes, searching in the dim light his surroundings, swiftlypassed from the rich furnishings, the artistic decorations, to thebright-colored robe, the little slippers before the fire. Here theylingered, but only for a moment! Did the intruder hear a sound, a quickbreath? His gaze swerved to the opposite end of the room where it saw aliving presence. For a moment they looked at each other; the man's faceturned very pale; his hand touched the back of a chair; he steadiedhimself. 

"I thought--to enter armory hall--did not know your rooms were here, " hemanaged to say in a low tone, "at this corner of Strathorn House. "

She did not answer; so they stood, silently, absurdly. Her face was likepaper; her hair, in contrast, most bright; her eyes expressed onlyincomprehension. The man had to speak first; he pulled himself together. The bad fortune that had dogged him so long, that he had fought againstso hard, now found its culmination: it had cast him, of all places, hither, at her feet. 

So be it; well, destiny now could harm him little more! His eyesgleamed; a reckless light shone out, a daredevil luster. He continued tolook at her, then threw back his head. 

"I had hoped you would never know; but the gods, it seems, " he couldeven laugh, "have ordained otherwise. '_Fata obstant_. '" Still thatstartled, uncomprehending look on the girl's white face! He went on morequickly, like a man driven to bay. "You do not understand; you arecredulous; take people for what they seem, --not for what they are; orhave been. "

He stopped; a suggestion of pain creeping into her expression, as if, behind wonderment, she was conscious of something being rudely torn, wrenched in her inmost being, held him. His face grew set; the nails ofhis closed fingers cut his palms. But the laugh returned to his lips, the luster to his eyes. 

"Or have been!" he repeated. "A good many people have their pasts. Canyou imagine what mine may have been?"

But she scarcely followed his words; she did not think, she could not;she seemed to stand in a hateful dream! Looking at him--the torn eveningclothes!--his face, pale, different! Listening to him!--to what--?

"A convict!" said the man. "Yes; that's what I was. Had been in jails, jails! And was sent out of the country, years ago, transported. But timewent by and the convict thought he might safely come back--boldly--withimpunity. The years and--circumstances had altered him--wrought greatchanges. He felt compelled to return--why, is of no moment!--believedhimself secure in so doing--and was--until chance led him out of hisaccustomed way--to new walks--new faces--where lay the danger--theambush, into which he, who thought himself strong, like a weak fool, walked--or was led--blindly. " He caught himself up with a laugh. "Butwhat is this to you? Enough, the convict found himself recognized, hisidentity thoroughly established. "

He waited; still she was silent; the little hands clasped tightly theheavy drapery that moved as if she were putting part of her weight onit. Her expression showed still that she had not yet had time tocomprehend; that for her what he said remained, even now, but words, confused, inexplicable. A strange sequel to a strange night, a nightthat had begun with such gaiety and blitheness; that had beeninterrupted, after he had left her, by the shouting and rough voicesfrom the garden! She seemed to hear them anew, and afterward, theexplanation of that odd little person, the police agent, his apologiesfor breaking in upon the cotillion. But he had said--?

The blue eyes bent like stars now on this man in her room, standingbefore her with bold, mocking face, as if his dark eyes read, understoodevery thought that passed through her brain. 

"You!--then it was you--John Steele--that they--"

"The convict they tried to arrest? Yes. "

"You? I don't--" Her voice was almost childlike. 

"I will help you to--understand!" An ashen shade came over his face, butit passed quickly; his voice sounded brusk. "For months, since a fatalevening all light, brilliancy, beauty!--the convict has been trying tohold back the inevitable; but the net whose first meshes were thenwoven, has since been drawing closer--closer. In the world two forcesare ever at work, the pursuers and the pursued. In this instance theformer, " harshly, "were unusually clever. He struggled hard to keep upthe deception until he could complete a defense worthy of the name. Butto no avail! He felt the end near; did not expect it so soon, however, this night!--this very night--!"

The man paused; there was a strange gleam in the dark eyes that lingeredon her; its light was succeeded by another, a fiercer expression. Forthe first time she moved, shrank back slightly. "I'm afraid I used a fewof them roughly, " he said with look derisory. "There was no time forsoft talk; it was cut and run--give 'leg bail, ' as the thieves say. " Didhe purposely relapse into coarser words to clench home the wholedamning, detestable truth? Her fine soft lips quivered; it may be shefelt herself awakening--slowly; one hand pressed now at her breast. Inthe grate the fire sank, although a few licking flames still thrusttheir fiery tongues between black lumps of coal. 

"But it was a close call, out there in the garden! They were before theconvict in the woods; he must needs double back to the shadow of thehouse! At the bottom of a moat he looked up to a balcony overhead, smallas Juliet's---though I swear he thought it led to armory hall, not here;had he known the truth, he would have stayed there first, and--But, asit was, he heard voices around the corner; afar, men approaching. Theivy at Strathorn House is almost as old as the house itself, the mainbranches larger than a man's arm. It was not difficult to get here, though I wish now--" he dared smile bitterly--"they had come on mefirst. "

The breeze at the window slightly shook the curtain; it waved in andout; the tassels struck faint taps on the sill. 

"But why--?" she began at length, then stopped, as if the question weregone almost as soon as it suggested itself. 

"--did I return here, --reenter Strathorn House?" he completed it forher. "Because there seemed nothing else to do; it was probably onlytemporizing with the inevitable--but one always temporizes. "

She moved slowly out into the room; his face was half-averted; all thelight that came from the grate, rested now on hers. At that instant sheseemed like a shadow, beautiful, but a shadow, going toward him asthrough no volition of her own. The thick texture on the floor drownedthe sound of her steps; she paused with her fingers on the gilded frameof a settee. He did not turn, although he must have known she was near;with his back toward her he gazed down at the soft, bright hues of therug, and on it a white thing, a tiny bit of lace, a handkerchief thatsome time before had fluttered to the floor and had been left lyingthere. 

"But--" she spoke now--"you--you who seemed all that was--I can'tbelieve--it is impossible--inconceivable--"

His features twitched, the nerves seemed moving beneath the skin; but heanswered in a hard tone. "I have told you the truth; because, " the wordsbroke from him, "I had to! Must I, " despite himself there was an accentof acutest pain in his voice, "repeat it?"

"No!" said the girl. "Oh, no. "

"You guessed I was going away. I was going so that you might never learnwhat you know now. "

"I--guessed you were going? Ah, to-night--on the balcony!"

Did he divine what her words recalled, could not but bring to mind? Atint sprang to her white face; it spread even to the white throat. Theblue eyes grew hard, very hard; the little hand he had so short a whilebefore held in his, closed; the slender figure which had then seemed towaver, straightened. He read the thought his words had evoked, did notmeet her eyes now. 

"You tell me what you have--And yet you have come--dared to comehere--under this roof--?"

It may be she also recalled his look when first he had entered thisroom, and, turning, had seen her; that her mind retained the impress ofa bearing, bold, mocking. 

"Oh, " she said, "it was infamous!"

The word struck him like a whip, lashed his face to a dull red; thesilence grew. 

"I would not presume to dispute or to contradict any conclusion you mayhave reached, " he spoke at length in a low, even voice. "I had not, as Isaid, intended this last, this most inexcusable intrusion. You have nowonly one course to pursue--" His gaze turned to the long silkenbell-rope on the wall. "And I promise not to resist. "

Her glance followed his, returned to his face, to his eyes, quietlychallenging. She took a step. 

"Well?" he said. 

She had suddenly stopped; in the hall voices were heard approaching; hetoo caught them. 

"That simplifies matters, " he remarked. 

Her breast stirred; she stood listening; they came nearer--now were atthe door. A measured knocking broke the stillness. 

"Jocelyn!" The voice was that of Sir Charles. "Are you there?" She didnot answer. "Kindly unlock the door. "

 * * * * *

CHAPTER XIV

AN ANSWER

The girl made no motion to obey and the knocking was repeated;mechanically she moved toward the threshold. "Yes?" All the color hadleft her face. "What--what is it?"

"Don't mean to alarm you, my dear, but Mr. Gillett thinks the convictmight be concealing himself somewhere in the house; indeed, that it isquite likely. So we are making a little tour of inspection. Shall we notgo through your rooms? There! don't be frightened!" quickly, "only as amatter of precaution, you know. "

"I, " she seemed to catch her breath, "it is really quite unnecessary. Ihave been through them myself. "

"Might have known that!" with an attempt at jocoseness. "But thought wewould make sure. Your balcony, you have looked there?"

"Yes. "

"Very well; lock your window leading to it. Only as a matter ofprecaution, " he repeated hastily. "No need of our coming in, I fancy. You had retired?"

"I--was about to. "

"Quite right. " A moment the party lingered. "Shall I send one of themaids to sleep in your dressing-room? Company, you know! Your voicesounds a little nervous. "

"Does it? Not at all!" she said hastily. "I am--not in the leastnervous. "

"Good night, then!" They went. "One of my men in the garden felt sure hehad seen him return toward the house, " Mr. Gillett's voice was waftedback, became fainter, died away. 

The man in the room stood motionless now, his face like that of a statuesave for the light and life of his eyes. The clock beat the moments; helooked at her. The girl was almost turned from him; he saw more of thebright hair than the pale profile, so still against the delicatelycarved arabesques of the panel. 

"The other way would have been--preferable!"

There was nothing reckless or bold in his bearing now; but, lookingaway, she did not see. Was he tempted, if only in an infinitesimaldegree, to suggest a plea of mitigating circumstances--not for his ownsake but for hers; that she might feel less keenly that sense of hurt, of outraged pride, for having smiled on him, admitted him to a certainfrank, free intimacy? Before the words fell from his lips, however, sheturned; her gaze arrested his purpose, made him feel poignantly, acutely, the distance now between them. "What were you, " she hesitated, emphasized over-sharply the word, "transported for?"

An instant his eyes flashed suddenly back at her, as if he were on thepoint of answering, telling her all, disavowing; but to what end? To askmore of her than of others, throw himself on her generosity?

"What does it matter?"

True; what did it matter to her; he had been in prisons before, by hisown words. 

"Your name, of course, is not John Steele?"

He confessed it a purloined asset. 

"What was it?"

He looked at her--beyond! To a storm-tossed ship, a golden-haired child, her curls in disorder, moving with difficulty, yet clinging sosteadfastly to a small cage. His name? It may be he heard again the loudpounding and knocking; held her once more to his breast, felt theconfiding, soft arms. 

"What does it matter?" he repeated. 

What, indeed? That which she had not been able to penetrate, tounderstand in him, this was it! This!

"But why"--fragments of what he had said recurred to her; she spokemechanically--"when you found yourself recognized, did you not leaveEngland; why did you come here--to Strathorn House; incur the danger, the risk?"

"Why?" He still continued to look straight before him. "Becauseyou--were here!" He spoke quietly, simply. 

"I?" she trembled. 

"Oh, you need not fear!" quickly. "You!" a bitter smile crossed hisface. "One may see a star and long to draw nearer it, though one knowsit is always beyond reach, unattainable! May even stumble forward, ledby its light--bright, beautiful! Whither?" He laughed abruptly. "One hasnot asked, nor cared. "

"Cared?" Her figure swayed; he too stood uncertainly; the lights seemedto tremble. 

The man suddenly straightened; then turned. "And now, " his voice soundedharsh, tense; he stepped toward the balcony. 

His words, the abrupt action--what it portended, aroused her. 

"No; no!" The exclamation broke from her involuntarily; she seemed towaken as from something unreal that had momentarily held her. "There--there may be a safer way!" She hardly knew what she was saying;one thought alone possessed her mind; she looked with strained, brightglance before her. "The Queen Elizabeth staircase leading into thegarden from my--" The words were arrested; her blue eyes, dark, dilated, lingered on him in an odd, impersonal way. "Wait!" Bright spots of colornow tinted her cheeks; she went quickly toward the door she had left, her manner that of one who hastens to some course on impulse, withoutpausing to reason. "A few minutes!" She listened, turned the key; thenopening the door, stepped hastily out into the hall. 

The latch clicked; the man stood alone. Whatever her purpose, only thedesire to act quickly, to have done with an intolerable situation movedhim. Once more he looked toward the window through which he had entered;first, however, before going, he bethought himself of something, ananswer to one of her questions. She should find the answer after he wasgone! His fingers thrust themselves into a breast-pocket; he took out asmall object, wrapped in velvet. An instant his eyes rested upon it;then, stooping, he picked up the bit of lace handkerchief from the floorand laying the dark velvet against it placed the two on the table. 

Would she understand? The debt he had felt he owed her long beforeto-night, that sense of obligation to the child who had reached out herhand, in a different life, a different world! No; she had, of course, forgotten; still he would leave it, that talisman so precious, which hehad cherished almost superstitiously. 

When a few minutes later the girl hastily reëntered the room, shecarried on her arm a man's coat and hat; her appearance was feverish, her eyes wide and shining. 

"Your clothes are torn--would attract attention! These were on therack--I don't know whose--but I stole them!--stole them!"

She spoke quickly with a little hard note of self-mockery. Her voicebroke off suddenly; she looked around her. 

The coat and hat slipped from her arm; she looked at the window; thecurtain still moved, as if a hand had but recently touched it. Shestared at it--incredulously. He had gone; he would have none of herassistance then; preferred--She listened, but caught only the rustlingof the heavy silk. When? Minutes passed; at her left, a candle, carelessly adjusted by the maid, dripped to the dresser; its over-longwick threw weird, ever-changing shadows; her own silhouette appeared invarious distorted forms on hangings and wall. 

Still she heard nothing, nothing louder than the faint sounds at thewindow; the occasional, mysterious creakings of old woodwork. He musthave long since reached the ground--the bottom of the old moat; perhaps, as the police agent and several of his men were in the house, he mighteven have attained the fringe of the wood. It was not so fardistant, --the space intervening from the top of the moat contained manyshrubs; in their friendly shadows--

She stole to the corner of the window now and cautiously peered out. Thesky was overcast; below, faint markings could just be discerned; beyond, Cimmerian gloom--Strathorn wood. 

Had he reached, could he reach it? A cool breeze fanned her cheekswithout lessening the flush that burned there; her lips werehalf-parted. She stepped uncertainly back; a reaction swept over her;the most trivial thoughts came to mind. She remembered that she had notlocked the door of her boudoir; that Sir Charles had told her to do so. She almost started to obey; but laughed nervously instead. How absurd!What, however, should she do? She looked toward the next room. Go tobed? It seemed the commonplace, natural conclusion, and, after all, lifewas very commonplace. But the coat and hat she had brought there?Consideration of them, also, came within the scope of the commonplace. 

It did not take her long to dispose of them, not on the rack, however. Standing again, a few moments later, at the head of the stairway, in theupper hall, she heard voices approaching. Whereupon she quickly droppedboth hat and coat on a chair near-by and fled to her room. 

None too soon! From above footsteps were descending; people now passedby; they evidently had been searching the third story. She could heartheir low, dissatisfied voices; the last persons to come she at oncerecognized by their tones. 

"You have made a bungling job of it, " said Lord Ronsdale. There was asuppressed fierce bitterness in his accents, which, however, in theexcitement of the moment, the girl failed to notice. 

"He had made up his mind not to be taken alive, my Lord. "

"Then--" The other interrupted Mr. Gillett harshly, but she failed tocatch more of his words. 

"We've not lost him, my Lord, " Mr. Gillett spoke again. "If he's not inthe house, he's near it, in the garden, and we have every way guarded. "

"Every way guarded!" The girl drew her breath; as they disappeared, thestriking of the clock caused her to start. One! two! About four hours ofdarkness, hardly that long remained for him! And yet she would havesupposed it later; it had been after one o'clock when she had come toher room. 

She became aware of a throbbing in her head, a dull pain, andmechanically seating herself near one of the tables, she put up her handand started to draw the pins from her hair, but soon desisted. Again shebegan to think, more clearly this time, more poignantly, of all she hadexperienced--listened to--that night!

She, a Wray, sprung from a long line of proud, illustrious folk! And he?The breath of the roses outside was wafted upward; her eyes, deep, self-scoffing, rested, without seeing, on a small dark object on ahandkerchief on the table. What was it to her if they took him?--Whatindeed? Her fingers played with the object, closed hard on it. Whyshould she care if he paid the penalty; he, a self-confessed---

Something fell from the velvet covering in her hand and struck with amusical sound on the hard, polished top. Amid a turmoil of thoughts, shewas vaguely aware of it gleaming there on the cold white marble, a smalldisk--a gold coin. At first it seemed only to catch without interestingher glance; then slowly she took it, as if asking herself how it camethere, on her handkerchief, which, she dimly remembered, had been lyingon the floor. Some one, of course, must have picked up the handkerchief;but no one had been in the room since she had noticed it except--

Her gaze swung to the window; he, then, had left it. Why? What had sheto do with anything that had been his?

More closely she scrutinized it, the shining disk on her rosy palm; aKing George gold piece! Above the monarch's face and head with itsflowing locks, appeared a tiny hole, as if some one had once worn it;beneath, just discernible, was the date, 1762. She continued to regardit; then looked again at the bit of velvet, near-by. It had been wrappedin that, carefully; for what reason? Like something more than what itseemed--a mere gold piece!

"1762. " Why, even as she gazed at the cloth, felt it, did the figuresseem to reiterate themselves in her brain? "1762. " There could benothing especially significant about the date; yet even as she concludedthus, by some introspective process she saw herself bending over, studying those figures on another occasion. Herself--and yet--

She was looking straight before her now; suddenly she started and sprangup. "A King George gold piece!" Her hair, unbound, fell around her, below her waist; her eyes like sapphires, gazed out from a veritableshimmer of gold. "Date--" She paused. "Why, this belonged to me once, asa child, and I--"

The blue eyes seemed searching--searching; abruptly she found what shesought. "I gave it to the convict on the _Lord Nelson_. " She almostwhispered the words. "The brave, brave fellow who sacrificed his lifefor mine. " Her warm fingers closed softly on the coin; she seemedwrapped in the picture thus recalled. 

"Then how--" Her brows knitted, she swept the shining hair from herface. "If he were drowned, how could it have been left here by--" Hereyes were dark now with excitement. "Him? Him?" she repeated. "Unless, "her breast suddenly heaved--"he was not drowned, after all; he--"

A sudden shot from the park rang out; the coin fell from the girl'shand; other shots followed. She ran out upon the balcony, a stifled cryon her lips; she stared off, but only the darkness met her gaze. 

 * * * * *

CHAPTER XV

CURRENTS AND COUNTER CURRENTS

Not far from one of the entrances to Regent's Park or the hum of CamdenTown's main artery of traffic, lay a little winding street which, because of its curving lines, had long been known as Spiral Row. Although many would not deign in passing to glance twice down thismodest thoroughfare, it presented, nevertheless, a romantic air of charmand mystery. The houses nestled timidly behind time-worn walls; it wasalways very quiet within this limited precinct, and one wonderedsometimes, by day, if the various secluded abodes were really inhabited, and by whom? An actress, said vague rumor; a few scribblers, a pair ofpainters, a military man or two. Here Madam Grundy never ventured, butCalliope and the tuneful nine were understood to be occasional callers. One who once lived in the Row has likened it to a tiny Utopia where eachand every one minded his own business and where the comings and goingsof one's neighbor were matters of indifference. 

Into this delectable byway there turned, late in the night of the secondday after that memorable evening at Strathorn House, a man who, lookingquickly around him, paused before the closed gate of one of thedwellings. The street, ever a quiet one, appeared at that advanced hourabsolutely deserted, and, after a moment's hesitation, the man pulledthe bell; for some time he waited; but no response came. He looked in;through the shrubbery he could dimly make out the house, set well back, and in a half uncertain way he stood staring at it, when from the end ofthe street, he heard a vehicle coming rapidly toward him. 

More firmly the man jerked at the handle of the bell; this time hisefforts were successful; a glimmer as from a candle appeared at thefront door, and a few minutes later a dark form came slowly down thegraveled walk. As it approached the vehicle also drew nearer; the manregarded the latter sidewise; now it was opposite him, and he turned hisback quickly to the flare of its lamps. But in a moment it had whirledby, with a note of laughter from its occupants, light pleasure seekers;at the same time a key turned in a lock and the gate swung open. 

"Good evening, Dennis, " said the caller. The faint gleam of the candlerevealed the drowsy and unmistakably Celtic face of him he addressed, aman past middle age, who regarded the new-comer with a look ofrecognition. "I'm afraid I've interrupted your slumbers. This is rathera late hour at which to arrive. "

"No matter, sir. Sure and I sat up expecting you, Mr. Steele, untilafter midnight, and had only just turned in when--"

"What--?" The new-comer, now fairly within the garden, could notsuppress a start of surprise, which however the other, engaged inrelocking the gate, did not appear to notice. "Expecting--?"

"Although I'd given up thinking you'd be here to-night, " the latter wenton. "But won't you be stepping in, sir?"

The other silently followed, walking in the manner of one tired andworn; he did not, however, at that moment seem concerned with fatigue orphysical discomfort; the uncertain light of the candle before him showedhis brows drawn, his eyes questioning, as if something had happened tocause him to think deeply, doubtfully. At the door the servant stoodaside to allow him to enter; then ushered him into a fairly commodiousand comfortable sitting-room. 

"My master did not come back with you, sir, from Strathorn House?"

"No; Captain Forsythe's gone on to Germany. "

"To attend some court, I suppose. Sure, 'tis a dale he has done of that, Mr. Steele, after the both of us were wounded by those black devils inIndia and retired from active service. " The servant's voice had aninquiring accent; his glance rested now in some surprise on thenew-comer's garments, --a gamekeeper's well-worn coat and cap, --and onthe dusty, almost shabby-looking shoes. 

"A wager, " said John Steele, noting the old orderly's expression. "FromStrathorn House to London by foot, within a given time, don't you know;fell in with some rough customers last night who thought my coat and hatbetter than these. "

"I beg your pardon, sir, but--" The man's apprehensive look fasteneditself on a dark stain on the coat, near the shoulder. 

"Just winged me--a scratch, " replied John Steele with an indifferentshrug, sinking into a chair near the fire which burned low. 

"It's lucky you came off no worse, sir, and you'll be finding a changeof garments up-stairs; I put them out for you myself--"

"I'm afraid, Dennis, I'm rather large for your master's clothes, " wasthe visitor's reply in a voice that he strove vainly to make light. 

"Sure, they're your own, sir. " The other looked up quickly. "I'll geteverything ready for a bath, and if you've a mind for anything to eatafterward--"

"I think I'll have a little of the last, first, " said the visitorslowly. 

"Right you are, sir. You do look a bit done up, sir, " sympathetically, "but there's a veal and 'ammer in the cupboard that will soon make youfit. "

"One moment, Dennis. " John Steele leaned back; the dying embers revealeda haggard face; his eyes half closed as if from lack of sleep butimmediately opened again. "You spoke of expecting me; how, " he stretchedout his legs, "did you know--?"

"Sure, sir, by your luggage; it arrived with my master's heavier boxesthat he didn't take along with him over the wather. " The listener didnot stir; was he too weary to experience surprise or even deeperemotion?

His luggage there!--where no one knew--could have known, he was going!The place he had selected, under what he had considered propitiouscircumstances, as a haven, a refuge; where he might find himself for abrief period comparatively safe, could he reach it, turn in, withoutbeing detected! This last he believed he had successfully accomplished;and then to be told by the man--All John Steele's excuses for coming inthis unceremonious fashion that he had planned to put to the servant ofCaptain Forsythe were at the moment forgotten. Who could have guessedthat he would make his way straight hither--or had any one? An enemy, divining a lurking place for which he was heading, would not haveobligingly forwarded his belongings. What then? Had Jocelyn Wray orderedthem sent on with Captain Forsythe's boxes and bags, in order that theymight be less likely to fall into the hands of the police?

This line of reasoning seemed to lead into most unwonted channels; itwas not probable she would concern herself so much further about acommon fugitive. The cut and bruised fingers of the man before thefireplace linked and unlinked; an indefinable feeling of new dangers hehad not calculated on assailed him. Suppose the police should havelearned--should elect to trace, those articles of his? It was acontingency, a hazard to be considered; he knew that every possibleeffort would be made to find him; that if his antagonists were eagerbefore, they would embark on the present quest with redoubled zeal. Hehad been in their hands and had got away; disappointment would drivethem more fiercely on to employ every expedient. They might even now beat the gate; at the moment, however, he felt as if he hardly cared, onlythat he was very tired, too exhausted to move on. His exertions of thelast few days had been of no ordinary kind; his shoulder was stiff andit pained. 

"Here you are, sir. " The servant had entered and reëntered, had set thetable without the man in the arm-chair being conscious of his coming andgoing. "Remembered my master inviting you once, when you were here, topitch your camp at Rosemary Villa any time you should be after yearningfor that quietood essential for literary composition and to windin' upthe campaign on your book. So when I saw your luggage--"

"Exactly. " It was curious the man should have spoken thus, should havevoiced one of the very subterfuges Steele had had in mind himself toutter, to show pretext for his too abrupt appearance. But now--?

The situation was changed; yet he felt too exhausted to disavow theservant's conclusion. Certainly the episode of the luggage had made histask easier at this point; only, however, to enhance the greaterhazards, as if fate were again laughing at him, offering him too muchease, too great comfort, seeking to allure him with a false estimate ofhis security. As he ate, mechanically, but with the zest of one who hadlong fasted, he listened; again a vehicle went by; then another. 

"Rather livelier than usual to-night?" he observed and received anaffirmative answer. Some evenings now you'd hardly ever hear anythingpassing from sunset to sunrise and find it as quiet as the tomb. 

Who lived on the right, on the left? The visitor asked several questionscasually; the house to the right, the man thought, might be vacant; noone appeared to live in it very long. At least the moving van seemed tohave acquired a habit of stopping there; the one on the left had a morestable tenant; a lady who appeared in the pantomime, or the opera, hewasn't sure which, --only, foreign people sometimes went in and out. 

John Steele rose with an effort; no, there was nothing more he required, except rest! Which room would he prefer, he was asked when he foundhimself on the upper landing; the man had put his things in a frontchamber; but the back one was larger. John Steele forced himself toconsider; he even inspected both of the rooms; that on the front floorhad one window facing the Row; the second chamber looked out over a rearwall separating the vegetable garden of Rosemary Villa from theshrub-adorned confines of a place which fronted on the next street. 

The visitor decided on the former chamber; he carefully closed theblinds and drew across the window the dark, heavy curtains. This wouldanswer very well; excellent accommodations for a man whose own chambersin the city were now in the hands of renovators--the painters, thepaper-hangers, the plumbers. And the back room? He paused, as ifconsidering the servant's assumption of his purpose in coming hither. Hemight as well let the fellow think--

Yes, he would venture to make use of that for his work; could thus takeadvantage of the force of circumstances that had arisen to alienate himfrom prosaic citations, writs or arraignments. But he must, withstrained lightness, emphasize one point; for a brief spell he did notwish to be disturbed. People might call; people probably would, anxiousclients, almost impossible to get rid of, unless--

No one must know where he was, under any circumstances; his voicesounded almost jocular, at singular variance with the heaviness, theweariness of his face. He, the old servant, had been a soldier; knew howto fulfil, then, a request or an order. Something crinkled in thespeaker's hand, passed to the other who was now busying himself with thebath; the man's moist fingers did not hesitate to close on the note. Hehad been a hardened campaigner and incidentally a good forager; heremarked at once he would carry out to the letter all his master'svisitor asked. 

Half an hour later, John Steele, clad in his dressing-gown, sat alonenear the fire in his room; every sound had ceased save at intervals alow creaking of old timber. Now it came from overhead, then from thehall or near the window, as if spirit feet or fingers were busy in thatvenerable, quaint domicile. But these faint noises, inseparable fromhouses with a history, John Steele did not hear; the food and the bathhad awakened in him a momentary alertness; he seemed waiting--for what?Something that did not happen; heaviness, depression again weighed onhim; to keep awake he stirred himself and again glanced about. Here wereevidences of odd taste on the part of the tenant in the matter ofhousehold decoration; a chain and ball that had once been worn by acertain famous convict reposed on an _étagère_, instead of the customaryvase or jug of pottery; other souvenirs of prisons and the people thathad been in them adorned a few shelves and brackets. 

John Steele smiled grimly; but soon his thoughts seemed floating offbeyond control, and rising suddenly, he threw himself on the bed. For amoment he strove to consider one or two tasks that should have beenaccomplished this night but which he must defer; was vaguely consciousof the slamming of a blind next door; then over-strained nature yielded. 

Hours passed; the sun rose high in the heavens, began to sink; still theheavy sleep of utter exhaustion claimed him. Once or twice the servantcame to the door, listened, and stole away again. The afternoon was welladvanced when, as half through a dream, John Steele heard the rudejingling of a bell, --the catmeat man, or the milkman, drowsily he toldhimself. In fancy he seemed to see the broad, flowing river from awindow of his own chambers, the dawn stealing over, marshaling itstints, --crimson until--

Slowly through the torpor of his brain realization began also to dawn;this room?--it was not his. The gleaming lances of sunlight that dartedthrough the half-closed shutters played on the strange wall-paper of astrange apartment; no, he remembered it now--last night!

The loud and emphatic closing of the front gate served yet more speedilyto arouse him; hastily he sat up; his head buzzed from a long-neededsleep that had been over sound; his limbs still ached, but every senseon an instant became unnaturally keen. Footsteps resounded on thegravel; he heard voices; those of two men, who were coming toward thehouse. 

"So it's the meter man you are?" John Steele recognized the inquiringvoice as that of the caretaker. "Sure, you're a new one from the lastthat was here. "

"Yes; we change beats occasionally, " was the careless answer, as the menpassed around the side of the house and entered a rear door. For a timethere was silence; John Steele sprang from his bed and crept very softlytoward the hall. "A new man--" He heard them talking again after a fewminutes; he remained listening at his door, now slightly ajar. 

"There must be a leak somewhere from the quantity you've burned. I'llhave a look around; might save your master a few shillings. "

The man moved from room to room and started, at length, up the stairs. John Steele closed and noiselessly locked his door; the "meter man"crossed the upper hall and stepped, one after the other, into theseveral rooms. Having apparently made there the necessary examination, he walked over and tried the door of John Steele's room. 

"This room's occupied by a visitor, " interposed the servant quickly in ahushed voice. "And he's asleep now; he wouldn't thank you for thedisturbing of his repose. "

"All right. " Did the listener detect an accent of covert satisfaction inthe caller's low tones? "I'll not wake him. Don't find the leak I waslooking for; will drop in again, though, when I have more time. "

Their footsteps receded and shortly afterward, the man left the house;as he did so, John Steele, pushing back the blinds a little, looked outof his room; the man who had reached the front of the place glancedback. His gaze at that instant, meeting the other's, seemed to betray amomentary eagerness; quickly Steele turned away; no doubt now lingeredin his mind as to the purpose of the visit. 

 * * * * *

CHAPTER XVI

FLIGHT

The half-expected had happened; bag and baggage had led his pursuershither; the fellow could now go back and report. After his bath, beforelying down, John Steele had partly dressed in the garments laid out forhim; now he threw the dressing-gown from his shoulders and hastily puton the rest of his clothes. He felt now only the need for action--to dowhat? Impatience was capped by the realization of his own impotence;Rosemary Villa was, no doubt, at that very moment, subjected to a closeespionage. He heard the man-servant in the garden, and unable torestrain a growing restlessness to know the worst, Steele mounted thestairs to the attic. 

From the high window there he could see, around a curve in the Row, aloitering figure; in the other direction a neighboring house concealedthe byway, but he could reasonably conclude that some one also saunteredthere, sentinel at that end of the street. Quickly coming down to thesecond story, he began cautiously to examine from the windows thesituation of the house, in relation to adjoining grounds and neighboringdwellings. 

To the right, the top of the high wall shone with the customary brokenbits of glass; the rear defenses glistened also in formidable fashion. He noted, however, several places where this safeguard against unwontedinvasion showed signs of deterioration; in one or two spots the jaggedfragments had been broken, or had fallen off. These slight breaks in thecontinuity of irregular, menacing glass bits, he fixed in mind by acertain shrub or tree. Against the rear wall, which was of considerableheight, leaned his neighbor's low conservatory, almost spanning it fromside to side. 

"Sure, sir, I don't know whether it's breakfast or supper that's waitingfor you. " Captain Forsythe's man had reappeared and stood now at the topof the landing looking in at him. "It's a sound sleep you've had. "

John Steele glanced at the clock; the afternoon was waning. Why did nothis enemies force their way in, surround him at once? Unless--and thismight prove a momentary saving clause!--these people without were but anadvance guard, an outpost, awaiting orders. In this event Gillett wouldhastily be sent for; would soon be on his way---

"'Tis a rasher of real Irish bacon that is awaiting your convenience, sir. "

The servant was now eying the visitor dubiously; John Steele wheeled, aperfunctory answer on his lips, and going to the dining-room swallowedhastily a few mouthfuls. From where he sat he could command a view ofthe front gate, and kept glancing toward it when alone. To go now, --orwait? The daylight did not favor the former course unless his pursuersshould suddenly appear before the locked gate, demanding admission. 

He made up his mind as to his course then, the last desperate shift. Amid a turmoil of thoughts a certain letter he had had in mind to sendto Captain Forsythe occurred to him, and calling for paper and pen, hewrote there, facing the window, feverishly, hastily, several pages; thenhe gave the letter to the servant for the postman, whose special call atthe iron knocker without had just sounded. The letter would have servedJohn Steele ill had it fallen into his enemies' hands, but once in thecare of the royal mails it would be safe. If it were, indeed, thatperson at the gate, and not some one--

"One moment, Dennis!" The man paused. "Of course you will make sure itis the postman--?"

The servant stared at this guest whose demeanor was becoming more andmore eccentric. "As if I didn't know his knock!" he said, departing. 

The afternoon waned; the shadows began to fall; John Steele's pulses nowthrobbed expectantly. He called for a key to the gate and moved towardthe front door; by this time the darkness had deepened, and, key inhand, he stepped out. 

At first he walked toward the front on the gravel that the servant mighthear him, but near the entrance he paused, hesitating, to look out. Ashe remained thus, some one, who had been standing not far off, drewnear. This person steathily passed; in doing so he glanced around; butJohn Steele felt uncertain whether the fellow had or had not been ableto distinguish him in the gloom. John Steele waited, however, until theother moved a short distance on; then he retraced his own way quietly, keeping to the grass, toward the house; near it he swerved and in thesame rapid manner stole around the place until he reached the back wall. 

There he examined his position, felt the top, then placed his fingers onthe wall. It was about six feet high, but seizing hold, he was about tospring into the air, when behind him, from the direction of the Row, alow metallic sound caught his attention. The front gate to the Forsythehouse had suddenly clicked; some one had entered, --not the servant; JohnSteele had seen him but a few moments before in the kitchen; some one, then, who had quietly picked the lock, as the surest way of getting in. 

John Steele looked back; even as he did so, a number of figures abruptlyran forward from the gate. He waited no longer but drew himself up to alevel with the top of the wall. The effort made him acutely aware of hiswounded shoulder; he winced but set his teeth hard and swung himselfover until one foot came in contact with the iron frame of thegreenhouse next to the masonry. To crawl to the end of the lean-to, bending to hold to the wall, and then to let himself down, occupied buta brief interval. 

As he stood there, trying to make out a path through shrubs and trees, he heard behind him an imperative knocking at the front door of CaptainForsythe's house; the expostulating tones of the serving-man; thehalf-indistinct replies that were succeeded by the noise of feethastening into the house. 

For some time nothing save these sounds was wafted to the listener; thena loud disappointed voice, sounding above another voice, came from ahalf-opened window. John Steele stood still no longer; great hazard, almost certain capture, lay before him in the direction he was going;the street this garden led to would be watched; but he could not remainwhere he was. Already his enemies were moving about in the neighboringgrounds; soon they would flash their lights over the wall, woulddiscover him, unless--He moved quickly forward. As he neared the house, more imposing than Captain Forsythe's, a stream of light poured from awindow; through this bright space he darted quickly, catching a fleetingview of people within, several with their faces turned toward him. Closeto a side of the square-looking house, he paused, his heart beatingfast--not with fear, but with a sudden, fierce anger at the possibilitythat he would be caught thus; no better than a mere--

But needs must, when the devil drives; the devil was driving him nowhard. To attempt to reach the gate, to get out to Surrey Road, --littledoubt existed as to what awaited him there; so, crouching low, he forcedhimself to linger a little longer where he was. As thus he remainedmotionless, sharp twinges again shot through his shoulder; then, on asudden, he became unmindful of physical discomfort; a plan of actionthat had flashed through his brain, held him oblivious to all else; itoffered only the remotest chance of escape--but still a chance, which heweighed, determined to take! It had come to him while listening to themerry voices within the room near him talking of the gay dinner justended, of the box party at the theater that was to follow. 

Already cabs were at the door; the women and the men, several of thelatter flushed with wine, were ready to go. A servant walked out andunlocked the gate and with light badinage the company issued forth. Asthey did so, John Steele, unobserved, stepped forward; in thesemi-darkness the party passed through the entrance into the street. Taking his place among the last of the laughing, dimly-seen figures, John Steele walked boldly on and found himself a moment later on thesidewalk of Surrey Road. He was aware that some one, a woman, hadtouched his arm, as if to take it; of a light feminine voice and anabrupt exclamation of surprise, of the quick drawing back of flutteringskirts. But he did not stop to apologize or to explain; walking swiftlyto one of the last cabs he sprang in. 

"A little errand first, driver, " he called out. "To--" and mentioned astreet--"as fast as you can. " His tone was sharp, authoritative; itimplied the need for instant obedience, rang like a command. The manstraightened, touched his horse with his whip, and wheeling quickly theydashed away. 

As they did so, John Steele thought he heard exclamations behind;looking through the cab window he saw, at the gate, the company gazingafter him, obviously not yet recovered from their thrill of surprisefollowing his unexpected action. He observed, also, two men on the otherside of the street who now ran across and held a brief altercation withone of the cabmen. As they were about to enter the cab several personsin the party apparently intervened, expostulating vigorously. It was notdifficult to surmise the resentment of the group at this attemptedsummary seizure of a second one of their cabs. By the time the men hadexplained their imperative need, and after further argument werepermitted to drive off, John Steele had gained a better start than hehad dared to hope. But they would soon be after him, post-haste; yes, already they were dashing hard and furiously behind; he lifted the lidoverhead, in his hand a sovereign. 

"Those men must not overtake us, cabby. Go where you will! Youunderstand?"

The man did; his fingers closed quickly on the generous tip and oncemore he lashed his horse. For some time they continued at a rapid pace, now skirting the confines of the park, now plunging into a puzzlingtangle of streets; but wherever they went, the other cab managed alwaysto keep them in sight. It even began to creep up, nearer. From hispocket John Steele drew a weapon; his eyes gleamed ominously. Thepursuing hansom drew closer; casting a hurried glance over his shoulder, he again called up to the driver. 

"It's no use, gov'ner, " came back the reply. "This 'oss 'as been outlonger than 'is. "

"Then turn the first dark corner and slow up a bit, --for only a second;afterward, go on your very best as long as you can. "

Another sovereign changed hands and shortly afterward the vehicle dashedinto a side street. It appeared as likely a place as any for hispurpose; John Steele, hardly waiting for the man to draw rein, leapedout as far as he might. He landed without mishap, heard a whip snapfuriously, and darted back into a doorway. He had just reached it whenthe other cab drew near; for an instant he felt certain that he had beenseen; but the pursuers' eyes were bent eagerly ahead. 

"This'll mean a fiver for you, my man, " he heard one of them shout tothe driver. "We've got him, by--" A harsh, jubilant cry cut the air;then they were gone. 

John Steele did not wait; replacing the weapon in his pocket he startedquickly around the corner; his cabman could not lead them far; theywould soon return. As fast as possible, without attracting undueattention, he retraced his way; passed in and out of tortuousthoroughfares; by shops from whence came the smell of frying fish; downalleys where squalor lurked. Although he had by this time, perhaps, eluded the occupants of the cab, he knew there were others keenly alertfor his capture whom he might at any moment encounter. To his fancyevery corner teemed with peril; he did not underestimate the resourcesof those who sought him or the cunning of him who was the chief amonghis enemies. 

Which way should he move? At that moment the city's multitudinous blocksseemed like the many squares of an oriental checker-board; the problemhe put to himself was how to cross the city and reach the vicinity ofthe river; there to make a final effort to look for--What? A hopelessquest!

His face burned with fever; he did not heed it. A long, broadthoroughfare, as he walked on, had suddenly unfolded itself to his gaze;one side of this highway shone resplendent with the flaring lights ofnumerous stands and stalls displaying vegetables and miscellaneousarticles. A hubbub assailed the ear, the voices of hucksters andhawkers, vying with one another to dispose of their wares; like ants, people thronged the sidewalk and pavement near these temporary booths. 

About to turn back from this animated scene, John Steele hesitated; theroad ran straight and sure toward the destination he wished to reach, while on either hand lay a network of devious ways. Amid theselabyrinths, even one familiar with the city's maze might go astray, andagain he glanced down the single main road, cutting squarely through allintricacies; noted that although, on one side, the lamps and the torchesflared high, revealing every detail of merchandise, and, incidentally, the faces of all who passed, the other side of the thoroughfare seemedthe more murky and shadowy by comparison. 

He decided, crossed the street; lights gleamed in his face. He pushedhis way through the people unmolested and strode on, followed only bythe noise of passing vehicles and carts; then found himself walking onthe other side, apart from the headlong busy stream. A suspicion of misthung over the city; through it, people afar assumed shapes unreal; abovethe jagged sky-line of housetops the heavens had taken on that sicklyhue, the high dome's jaundiced aspect for London in autumn. 

On!--on! John Steele moved; on!--on!--the traffic pounded, for the mostpart in the opposite direction; a vast, never-ending source of sound, itseemed to soothe momentarily his sense of insecurity. Time passed; hehad, apparently, evaded his pursuers; he told himself he might, afterall, meet the problem confronting him; meet and conquer. It would be ahard battle; but once in that part of the city he was striving to reach, he might find those willing to offer him shelter--low-born, miserablewretches he had helped. He would not disdain their succor; the endjustified the way. In their midst, if anywhere in London, was the oneman in the world who could throw a true light on the events of the past;enable him to---

Behind him some one followed; some one who drew ever nearer, with soft, skulking steps which now he heard--

"Mr. Steele!" Even as he wheeled, his name was called out. 

 * * * * *

CHAPTER XVII

THE UNEXPECTED

Before the sudden fierce passion gleaming on John Steele's face, thebright flame of his look, the person who had accosted him shrank back;his pinched and pale face showed surprise, fear; almost incoherently hebegan to stammer. Steele's arm had half raised; it now fell to his side;his eyes continued to study, with swift, piercing glance, the man whohad called. He was not a fear-inspiring object; hunger and privationseemed so to have gripped him that now he presented but a pitiableshadow of himself. 

Did John Steele notice that changed, abject aspect, that bearing, devoidtotally of confidence? All pretense of a certain coster smartness thathe remembered, had vanished; the hair, once curled with cheapjauntiness, hung now straight and straggling; a tawdry ornament whichhad stood out in the past, absurdly distinct on a bright cravat, withmany other details that had served to build up a definite type ofindividual, seemed to have dropped off into oblivion. 

Steele looked about; they two, as far as he could see, were alone. Heregarded the man again; it was very strange, as if a circular stage, thebuskined world's tragic-comic wheel of fortune, had turned, and a personwhom he had seen in one character had reappeared in another. 

"I ask your pardon. " The fellow found his voice. "I'll not be troublingyou further, Mr. Steele. "

The other's expression altered; he could have laughed; he had beenprepared for almost anything, but not this. The man's tones werehopeless; very deferential, however. 

"You were about to beg--of me?" John Steele smiled, as if, despite hisown danger, despite his physical pangs, he found the scene odd, unexampled, between this man and himself--this man, a sorry vagrant;himself, become now but a--"You were about to--?"

"I had, sir, so far forgotten myself as to venture to think of applyingfor temporary assistance; however--" Dandy Joe began to shuffle off in aspiritless way, when--

"You are hungry?" said John Steele. 

"A little, sir. "

"A modest answer in view of the actual truth, I suspect, " observed theother. But although his words were brusk, he felt in his pocket; asovereign--it was all he had left about him. When he had departedpost-haste for Strathorn House, he had neglected to furnish himself withfunds for an indefinite period; a contingency he should have foreseenhad risen; for the present he could not appear at the bank to drawagainst the balance he always maintained there. His own future, how heshould be able to subsist, even if he could evade those who sought him, had thus become problematical. John Steele fingered that last sovereign;started to turn, when he caught the look in the other's eyes. Did itrecall to him his own plight but a short twenty-four hours before?

"Very well!" he said, and was about to give the coin to the man and walkaway, when another thought held him. 

This fellow had been a link in a certain chain of events; the temptationgrew to linger with him, the single, tangible, though paltry anduseless, figure in the drama he could lay hands on. John Steele lookedaround; in a byway he saw the lighted window of a cheap oyster buffet. It appeared a place where they were not likely to be interrupted, andmotioning to the man, he wheeled abruptly and started for it. 

A few minutes later found them seated in the shabby back room; a numberof faded sporting pictures adorned the wall; one--how John Steelestarted!--showed the 'Frisco Pet in a favorite attitude. Absorbed instudying it, he hardly heard the proprietor of the place, and it was Joewho first answered him; he had the honor of being asked there by thisgentleman, and--he regarded John Steele expectantly. 

Steele spoke now; his dark eyes shone strangely; a sardonic expressionlurked there. The proprietor could bring his companion a steak, if hehad one. Large or small?--large--with an enigmatical smile. 

The "hexibition styke" in the window; would that do, queried theproprietor, displaying it. 

Would it? the eyes of the erstwhile dandy of the east side asked of JohnSteele; that gentleman only answered with a nod, and the supplementalinformation that he would take "half a dozen natives himself. " Theproprietor bustled out; from an opposite corner of the room, the onlyother occupant regarded with casual curiosity the two ill-assortedfigures. Tall, florid, Amazonian, this third person represented a fairexample of the London grisette, the _petite dame_ who is not verypetite, of its thoroughfares. Setting down a pewter pot fit for aguardsman, she rose and sauntered toward the door; stopping there, withone hand on her hip, she looked back. 

"Ever see 'im?" she observed, nodding her bonnet at the portrait. "Noticed you appeared hinterested, as if you 'ad!"

"Perhaps!" Steele laughed, not pleasantly. "In my mind's eye, as thepoet says. "

"Wot the--!" she retorted elegantly. "'Ere's a swell toff to chawf alidy! 'Owever, " reflectively, "I'ave 'eard 'e could 'it 'ard!"

"But that, " said the gentleman, indicating the tankard, "could hitharder. "

"My hyes; wot's the name of yer missionary friend, ragbags?" to Joe. 

"The gentleman's a lawyer, and when I tell you his name is--"

John Steele reached over and stopped the speaker; the woman laughed. 

"Perhaps it ayn't syfe to give it!"

Her voice floated back now from the threshold; predominated for a momentlater in one of the corners of the bar leading to the street: "Oi soi, you cawn't go in for a 'arf of bitters without a bloomin' graveyard mistcomin' up be'ind yer back!" Then the door slammed; the modern prototypeof the "roaring girl" vanished, and another voice--hoarse, that of aman--was heard:

"The blarsted fog is coming down fast. "

For some time the two men in the little back room sat silent; then oneof them leaned over: "She might have asked you that question, eh, Joe?"The speaker's eyes had turned again to the picture. 

The smaller man drew back; a shiver seemed to run over him. "They're along while about the steak, " he murmured. 

"For your testimony helped to send him over the water, I believe?" wenton the other. 

"How do you--? I ain't on the stand now, Mr. Steele!" A spark ofdefiance momentarily came into Dandy Joe's eyes. 

"No; no!" John Steele leaned back, half closed his eyes; again pain, fatigue seemed creeping over him. Outside sounded the clicking andclinking of glasses, a staccato of guffaws, tones _vivace_. "The harm'sbeen done so far as you are concerned; you, as a factor, havedisappeared from the case. "

"Glad to hear you say so, Mr. Steele. I mean, " the other's voice wasuncertain, cautious, "that's a matter long since dead and done with. Didn't imagine you ever knew about it; because that was before yourtime; you weren't even in London then. " The keen eyes of the listenerrested steadily on the other; seemed to read deeper. "But as for mytestimony helping to send him over the water--"

"Or under!" _sotto voce_. 

Joe swallowed. "It was true, every word of it. "

"Good!" John Steele spoke almost listlessly. "Always stick by any onewho sticks to you, --whether a friend, or a pal, or a patron. "

"A patron!" From the other's lips fell an oath; he seemed about to saysomething but checked himself; the seconds went by. 

"But even if there had been something not quite--strictly inaccord--which there wasn't"--quickly--"a man couldn't gainsay what hadbeen said, " Dandy Joe began. 

"He could, " indifferently. 

"But that would be--"

"Confessing to perjury? Yes. "

"Hold on, Mr. Steele!" The man's eyes began to shine with alarm. "I'mnot on the---"

"I know. And it wouldn't do any good, if you were. "

"You mean--" in spite of himself, the fellow's tones wavered--"becausehe's under the water?"

"No; I had in mind that even if he hadn't been drowned, your---"

"Wot! Hadn't---"

"A purely hypothetical case! If the sea gave up its dead"--Joe stirreduneasily--"any retraction on your part wouldn't serve him. In the firstplace, you wouldn't confess; then if you did--which you wouldn't--toemploy the sort of Irish bull you yourself used--you would bediscredited. And thus, in any contingency, " leaning back with foldedarms, his head against the wall, "you have become _nil_!"

"Blest if I follow you, sir!"

"That, also, " said John Steele, "doesn't matter. The principal subjectof any consequence, relating to you, is the steak, which is now coming. "As he spoke, he rose, leaving Dandy Joe alone at the table. 

For a time he did not speak; sitting before a cheerless fire, thatfeebly attempted to assert itself, he looked once or twice toward thedoor, as if mindful to go out and leave the place. 

But for an inexplicable reason he did not do so; there was nothing to begained here; yet he lingered. Perhaps one of those subtle, illusoryinfluences we do not yet understand, and which sometimes shape theblundering finite will, mysteriously, without conscious volition, was atwork. One about to stumble blindly forward, occasionally stops; why, heknows not. 

John Steele continued to regard the dark coals; to divers and sundrysounds from the table where the other ate, he seemed oblivious. Oncewhen the proprietor stepped in, he asked, without looking around, for acertain number of grains of quinine with a glass of water; they probablykept it at the bar. Yes, the man always had it on hand and brought itin. 

A touch of fever, might he ask, as the visitor took it; nothing to speakof, was the indifferent answer. 

Well, the gentleman should have a care; the gentleman did not replyexcept to ask for the reckoning; the proprietor figured a moment, thendeparted with the sovereign that had been tossed to the table. 

By this time Dandy Joe had pushed back his chair; his dull eyes gleamedwith satisfaction; also, perhaps, with a little calculation. 

"Thanking you kindly, sir, it's more than I had a right to expect. Ifever I can do anything to show--"

"You can't!"

"I don't suppose so, " humbly. Joe looked down; he was thinking; acertain matter in which self-interest played no small part had come tomind. John Steele was known to be generous in his services and small inhis charges. Joe regarded him covertly. "Asking your pardon forreferring to it--but you've helped so many a poor chap--there's an oldpal of mine what is down on his luck, and, happenin' across him theother day, he was asking of me for a good lawyer, who could give himstraight talk. One moment, sir! He can pay, or soon would be able to, if--"

"I am not at present, " Steele experienced a sense of grim humor, "looking for new clients. "

"Well, I thought I'd be mentioning the matter, sir, although I hadn'tmuch hopes of him being able to interest the likes of you. You see he'sbeen out of old England for a long time, and was goin' away again, whenw'at should he suddenly hear but that his old woman that was, meaninghis mother, died and left a tidy bit. A few hundred pounds or so; enoughto start a nice, little pub. For him and me to run; only it's in thehands of a trustee, who is waiting for him to appear and claim it. "

"You say he has been out of England?" John Steele stopped. "How long?"

"A good many years. There was one or two little matters agin him when heleft 'ome; but he has heard that certain offenses may be 'outlawed. ' Notthat he has much 'ope his'n had, only he wanted to see a lawyer; andfind out, in any case, how he could get his money without--"

"The law getting hold of him? What is his name?"

"Tom Rogers. "

For some minutes John Steele did not speak; he stood motionless. On thestreet before the house a barrel-organ began to play; its tones, broken, wheezy, appealed, nevertheless, to the sodden senses of those at thebar:

 "Down with the Liberals, Tories, Parties of all degree. "

Dandy Joe smiled, beat time with his hand. 

"You can give me, " John Steele spoke bruskly, taking from his pocket anote-book, "this Tom Rogers' address. "

Joe looked at the other, seemed about to speak on the impulse, but didnot; then his hand slowly ceased its motion. 

"I, sir--you see, I can't quite do that--for Tom's laying low, youunderstand. But if you would let him call around quiet-like, on you--"

John Steele replaced the note-book. "On me?" He spoke slowly; Dandy Joeregarded him with small crafty eyes. "I hardly think the case will provesufficiently attractive. "

The other made no answer; looked away thoughtfully; at the same momentthe proprietor stepped in. Steele took the change that was laid on thetable, leaving a half-crown, which he indicated that Dandy Joe couldappropriate. 

"Better not think of going now, sir, " the proprietor said to JohnSteele. "Never saw anything like it the way the fog has thickened; a mancouldn't get across London to-night to save his neck. "

"Couldn't he?" Dandy Joe stepped toward the door. "I'm going to have atry. "

A mist blew in; Dandy Joe went out. John Steele waited a moment, thenwith a perfunctory nod, walked quietly to the front door. The man hadnot exaggerated the situation; the fog lay before him like a thickyellow blanket. He looked in the direction his late companion hadturned; his figure was just discernible; in a moment it would have beenswallowed by the fog, when quickly John Steele walked after him. 

 * * * * *

CHAPTER XVIII

THROUGH THE FOG

The dense veil overhanging the city, while favorable to John Steele insome respects, lessening for the time his own danger, made moredifficult the task to which he now set himself. He dared not too closelyapproach the figure before him, lest he should be seen and his purposedivined; once or twice Dandy Joe looked around, more, perhaps, fromhabit than any suspicion that he was followed. Then the other, slackening his steps, sometimes held back too far and through cautionimperiled his plan by nearly losing sight of Dandy Joe altogether. Asthey went on with varying pace, the shuffling form ahead seemed to findthe way by instinct; crossed unhesitatingly many intersectingthoroughfares; paused only on the verge of a great one. 

Here, where opposing currents had met and become congested, utterconfusion reigned; from the masses of vehicles of all kinds, constituting a seemingly inextricable blockade, arose the din of hoarsevoices. With the fellow's figure a vague swaying shadow before him, JohnSteele, too, stopped; stared at the dim blotches of light; listened tothe anathemas, the angry snapping of whips. Would Dandy Joe plunge intothe mêlée; attempt to pass through that tangle of horses and men?Apparently he found discretion the better part of valor and moving backso quickly he almost touched John Steele, he walked down theintersecting avenue. 

Several blocks farther on, the turmoil seemed less marked, and here heessayed to cross; by dint of dodging and darting between restless horseshe reached the other side. A sudden closing in of cabs and carts midwaybetween curbs held John Steele back; he caught quickly at the bridle ofthe nearest horse and forced it aside. An expostulating shout, ahalf-scream from somewhere greeted the action; a whip snapped, stung hischeek. An instant he paused as if to leap up and drag the aggressor fromhis seat, but instead with closed hands and set face he pushed on; to beblocked again by an importunate cab. 

"Turn back; get out of this somehow, cabby!" He heard familiar tones, saw the speaker, Sir Charles, and, by his side--yes, through the curtainof fog, so near he could almost reach out and touch her, he saw as in aflash, Jocelyn Wray!

She, too, saw him, the man in the street, his pale face lifted up, ghost-like, from the mist. A cry fell from her lips, was lost amid othersounds. An instant eyes looked into eyes; hers, dilated; his, unnaturally bright, burning! Then as in a daze the beautiful head benttoward him; the daintily clad figure leaned forward, the sensitive andtrembling lips half parted. 

John Steele sprang back, to get free, to get out of there at once! Didshe call? he did not know; it might be she had given voice to hersurprise, but now only the clatter and uproar could be heard. In thefog, however, her face seemed still to follow; confused, for a moment, he did not heed his way. Something struck him--a wheel? He half fell, recovered himself, managed to reach the curb. 

He was conscious now of louder shoutings; of the sting on his cheek; ofthe traffic, drifting on--slowly. Then he, too, started to walk away, inthe opposite direction; it mattered little whither he bent his footstepsnow. Dandy Joe had disappeared; the hope of attaining his end throughhim, of being led to the retreat of one he had so long desired to find, had proved illusive. The last moment's halt had enabled him to escape, to fade from view like a will-o'-the-wisp. 

John Steele did not go far in mere aimless fashion; leaning against awall he strove once more to plan, but ever as he did so, through histhought the girl's fair face, looking out from enshrouding lace, intruded. Again he felt the light of her eyes, all the bitterness ofspirit their surprise, consternation, had once more awakened in him. 

He looked out at the wagons, the carts, the nondescript vehicles ofevery description; but a moment before she had been there, --so near; hehad caught beneath filmy white the glitter of gold, --her hair, the onlybright thing in that murk and gloom. He recalled how he had once satbeside her at the opera. How different was this babel, this grinding andcrunching of London's thundering wheels!

But around her had always been dreams that had led him into strangebyways, through dangerous, though flowery paths! To what end? To see herstart, her eyes wide with involuntary dread, shrinking? Could he notthus interpret that look he had seen by the flare of a carriage lamp, when she had caught sight of him?

Dread of him? It seemed the crowning mockery; his blood surged faster;he forgot his purpose, when a figure coming out of a public house, through one of the doors near which he had halted, caught his attention. Dandy Joe, a prodigal with unexpected riches, wiped his lips as hesauntered past John Steele and continued his way, lurching a little. 

How long did Steele walk after him? The distance across the city wasfar; groping, occasionally stumbling, it seemed interminable now. Onceor twice Dandy Joe lost his way, and jocularly accosted passers-by toinquire. At Seven Dials he experienced difficulty in determining whichone of the miserable streets radiating as from a common hub, would leadhim in the desired direction; but, after looking hastily at variousobjects--a barber's post, a metal plate on a wall--he selected hisstreet. Narrow, dark, it wormed its way through a cankered andlittle-traversed part of old London. 

For a time they two seemed the only pedestrians that had ventured forththat night in a locality so uninviting. On either side the housespressed closer upon them. Touching a wall here and there, John Steeleexperienced the vague sensation that he had walked that way on otheroccasions, long, long ago. Or was it only a bad dream that again stirredhim? Through the gulch-like passage swept a cold draft of air; it madelittle rifts in the fog; showed an entrance, a dim light. At the sametime the sound of the footsteps in front abruptly ceased. 

For a few minutes Steele waited; he looked toward the place Dandy Joehad entered. It was well-known to him, and, what seemed more important, to Mr. Gillett; the latter would remember it in connection with the'Frisco Pet; presumably turn to it as a likely spot to search for himwho had been forced to leave Captain Forsythe's home. Thatcontingency--nay, probability--had to be considered; the one person hemost needed to find had taken refuge in one of the places he would havepreferred not to enter. But no time must be lost hesitating; he had tochoose. Dismissing all thought of danger from without, thinking only ofwhat lay before him within, he moved quickly forward and tried the door. 

It yielded; had Dandy Joe left it unfastened purposely to lure himwithin, or had his potations made him unmindful? The man outside neitherknew nor cared; the mocking consciousness that he had turned that knobbefore, knew how to proceed, held him. He entered, felt his way in thedarkness through winding passages, downward, avoiding a bad step--did heremember even that?

How paltry details stood out! The earthen floor still drowned the soundof footsteps; the narrow hall took the same turns; led on and on indevious fashion until he could hear, like the faint hum of bees, thedistant rumble from the great thoroughfares, somewhere above, thatparalleled the course of the river. At the same time a slant of lightlike a sword, from the crack of a door, gleamed on the dark floor beforehim; he stepped toward it; the low sound of men's tones could beheard--Joe's; a strange voice! no, a familiar one!--that caused thelistener's every fiber to vibrate. 

"And what did you say, when he pumped you for the cote?"

"That you would rather call on him. "

"And then he cared nought for the job? You're sure"--anxiously--"hewasn't playing to find out?"

The other answered jocosely and walked away; a door closed behind him. For a time the stillness remained unbroken; then a low rattle, as ofdice on a table, caused John Steele to glance through a crevice. What hesaw seemed to decide him to act quickly; he lifted a latch and steppedin. As he did so a huge man with red hair sprang to his feet; from onegreat hand the dice fell to the floor; his shaggy jowl drooped. Castingover his shoulder the swift glance of an entrapped animal, he seemedabout to leap backward to escape by a rear entrance when the voice ofthe intruder arrested his purpose, momentarily held him. 

"Oh, I'm alone! There are no police outside. " He spoke in the dialect ofthe pick-purse and magsman. To prove it, John Steele stooped and lockedthe door. 

The small bloodshot eyes lighted with wonder; the heavy brutish jawsbegan to harden. "Alone?"

The other tossed the key; it fell at the man's feet; John Steele walkedover to the opposite door and shot a heavy bolt there. "Looks as if itwould hold, " he said in thieves' argot as he turned around. 

"Are ye a gaby?" The red-headed giant stared ominously at him. 

"On the contrary, " coolly, "I know very well what I am doing. "

A question interlarded with oaths burst from the other's throat; JohnSteele regarded the man quietly. "I should think it apparent what Iwant!" he answered. As he spoke, he sat down. "It is you, " bending hisbright, resolute eyes on the other. 

"And you've come alone?" He drew up his ponderous form. 

John Steele smiled. "I assure you I welcomed the opportunity. "

"You won't long. " The great fists closed. "Do you know what I am goingto do to you?"

"I haven't any curiosity, " still clinging to thieves' jargon or St. Giles Greek. "But I'm sure you won't play me the trick you did the lasttime I saw you. "

The fellow shot his head near; in his look shone a gleam of recognition. "You're the swell cove who wanted to palaver that night when--"

"You tried to rob me of my purse?"

John Steele laughed; his glance lingered on his bulky adversary withodd, persistent exhilaration, as if after all that had gone before, thiscontest royal, which promised to become one of sheer brute strength, awoke to its utmost a primal fighting force in him. "Do you know thepenalty for attempting that game, Tom Rogers, alias Tom-o'-the-Road;alias---"

The man fell back, in his eyes a look of ferocious wonderment. "Who areyou? By---!" he said. 

"John Steele. "

"John Steele?" The bloodshot eyes became slightly vacuous. "The--? Thenyou used him, " indicating savagely the entrance at the back, "for a duckto uncover?" Steele nodded. "And you're the one who's been so long at myheels?" Rage caused the hot blood to suffuse the man's face. "I'll burkeyou for that. "

John Steele did not stir; for an instant his look, confident, assured, seemed to keep the other back. "How? With the lead, or--"

The fellow lifted his hairy fists. "Those are all I--"

"In that case--" Steele took the weapon, on which his hand had rested, from his pocket; rising with alacrity he placed it on a rickety standbehind him. "You have me a little outclassed; about seventeen stone, Ishould take it; barely turn thirteen, myself. However, " tossing his coatin the corner, "you look a little soft; hardly up to what you were whenyou got the belt for the heavy-weight championship. Do you remember? The'Frisco Pet went against you; but he was only a low, ignorant sailor andhad let himself get out of form. You beat him, beat him, " John Steele'seyes glittered; he touched the other on the arm, "though he foughtseventeen good rounds! You stamped the heart out of him, Tom. "

The red-headed giant's arms fell to his side. "How do you--"

"I was there!" An odd smile crossed Steele's determined lips. "Lost alittle money on that battle. Recall the fourteenth round? He nearly hadyou; but you played safe in the fifteenth, and then--you sent himdown--down, " John Steele's voice died away. "It was a long time beforehe got up, " he added, almost absently. 

The listener's face had become a study; perplexity mingled with otherconflicting emotions. "You know all that--?"

"And all the rest! How for you the fascination of the road becamegreater than that of the ring; how the old wildness would crop out; howthe highway drew you, until--"

"See here, what's your little game? Straight now; quick! You come here, without the police, why?"

John Steele's reply was to the point; he stated exactly what he wantedand what he meant that the other should give him. As the fellow heard, he breathed harder; he held himself in with difficulty. 

"And so that's what you've come for, Mister?" he said, a hoarse guffawfalling from the coarse lips. John Steele answered quietly. "And youthink there is any chance of your getting it? May I be asking, " with anevil grin, "how you expect to make me, Tom Rogers, " bringing down hisgreat fist, "do your bidding?"

"In the first place by assuring you no harm shall come to you. It is inmy power to avert that, in case you comply. In the second place, youwill be given enough sovereigns to--"

"Quids, eh? Let me have sight of them, Mister. We might talk better. "

"Do you think I'd bring them here, Tom-o'-the-Road? No, no!" bruskly. 

"That settles it. " The other made a gesture, contemptuous, dissenting. 

John Steele's manner changed; he turned suddenly on the fellow likelightning. "In the next place by giving you your choice of doing what Iask, or of being turned over to the traps. "

"The traps!" The other fellow's face became contorted. "You mean thatyou--"

"Will give you up for that little job, unless--"

For answer the man launched his huge body forward, with fierce swingingfists. 

What happened thereafter was at once brutish, terrible, Homeric; thefellow's reserves of strength seemed immense; sheer animal rage drovehim; he ran amuck with lust to kill. He beat, rushed, strove to close. His opponent's lithe body evaded a clutch that might have ended thecontest. John Steele fought without sign of anger, like a machine, wonderfully trained; missing no point, regardless of punishment. He knewthat if he went down once, all rules of battle would be discarded; apowerful blow sent him staggering to the wall; he leaned against it aninstant; waited, with the strong, impelling look people had noticed onhis face when he was fighting in a different way, in the courts. 

The other came at him, muttering; the mill had unduly prolonged itself;he would end it. His fist struck at that face so elusive; but crashedagainst the wall; like a flash Steele's arm lifted. The great formstaggered, fell. 

Quickly, however, it rose and the battle was resumed. Now, despite JohnSteele's vigilance, the two came together. Tom Rogers' arm wound roundhim with suffocating power; strove, strained, to hurl him to earth. Butthe other's perfect training, his orderly living, saved him at thatcrucial moment; his strength of endurance lasted; with a great effort hemanaged to tear himself loose and at the same time with a powerful upperstroke to send Rogers once more to the floor. Again, however, he got tohis feet; John Steele's every muscle ached; his shoulder was bleedinganew. The need for acting quickly, if he should hope to conquer, pressedon him; fortunately Rogers in his blind rage was fighting wildly. JohnSteele endured blow after blow; then, as through a mist, he found atlength the opening he sought; an instant's opportunity on which alldepended. 

Every fiber of his physical being responded; he threw himself forward, the weight of his body, the force of a culminating impetus, went intohis fist; it hit heavily; full on the point of the chin beneath thebrutal mouth. Tom Rogers' head shot back as if he had received the blowof a hammer; he threw up his arms; this time he lay where he struck theground. 

John Steele swayed; with an effort he sustained himself. Was it over?Still Rogers did not move; Steele stooped, felt his heart; it beatslowly. Mechanically, as if hardly knowing what he did, John Steelebegan to count; "Time!" Rogers continued to lie like a log; his mouthgaped; the blow, in the parlance of the ring, had been a "knock-out";or, in this case, a _quid pro quo_. Yes, the last, but without refereeor spectators! The prostrate man did stir now; he groaned; John Steeletouched him with his foot. 

"Get up, " he said. 

The other half-raised himself and regarded the speaker with dazed eyes. "What for?"

John Steele went to the stand, picked up his revolver, and then sat downat a table. "You're as foul a fighter as you ever were, " he saidcontemptuously. 

 * * * * *

CHAPTER XIX

THE LAST SHIFT

The candle burned low; it threw now on grimy floor and wall the shadowsof the two men, one seated at the table, the other not far from it. Before John Steele lay paper and ink, procured from some niche. He hadceased writing; for the moment he leaned back, his vigilant gaze on thefigure near-by. From a corner of the room the rasping sound of a rat, gnawing, broke the stillness, then suddenly ceased. 

"Where were you on the night this woman, Amy Gerard, was found dead?"

A momentary expression of surprise, of alarm, crossed the bruised andbattered face; it was succeeded by an angry suspicion that glowed fromthe evil eyes. "You're not trying to fix that job on---"

"You? No. "

"Then what did you follow him here for, to pump me? The Yankee that gottransported is--"

"As alive as when he stepped before you in the ring!"

"Alive?" The fellow stared. "Not in England? It was death for him tocome back!"

"Never mind his whereabouts. "

The man looked at Steele closer. "Blame, if there isn't something aboutyou that puzzles me, " he said. 

"What?" laconically. 

The fellow shook his head. "And so he's hired you?"

"Not exactly. Although I may say I represent him. "

"Well, he got a good one. You know how to use your fists, Mister. "

"Better than this 'Frisco Pet did once, eh, Tom?" The man frowned. "Butto return to the subject in hand. That question you seemed afraid toanswer just now was superfluous; I know where you were the night thewoman was shot. "

"You do?"

"Yes; you were--" John Steele leaned forward and said something softly. 

"How'd you find that out?" asked the man. 

"The 'Frisco Pet knew where you were all the time; but did not speak, because he did not wish to get you into trouble. Also, because he didnot know, then, what he long afterward learned, --indirectly!--that youcould have cleared him!"

"Indirectly? I? What do you--?"

"Through your once having dropped a few words. Wine in, wits out!"

The fellow scowled; edged his chair closer. 

"Keep where you are!" John Steele's hand touched the revolver now on thetable before him; even as it did so, the room seemed to sway, and it wasonly by a strong effort of will he kept his attention on the matter inhand, fought down the dizziness. "And let's get through with this! Idon't care to waste much more of my time on you. "

"You're sure nothing will happen to me, if--" The man watched himcloser. 

"This paper need never be made public. "

"Then what--"

"That's my business. It might be useful in certain contingencies. "

"Such as the police discovering he hadn't gone to Davy Jones' locker?"shrewdly. 

John Steele's answer was short, as if he found this verbal contesttrite, paltry, after the physical struggle that had preceded it. 

"And what am I to get if I do what you--" The pupils of the fellow'seyes, fastened on him, were now like pin-points. 

The other smiled grimly; this bargaining and trafficking with such aman, in a place so foul! It seemed grotesque, incongruous; and yet was, withal, so momentous. He knew just what Rogers should say; what he wouldforce him to do! In his overwrought state he overlooked one or twopoints that would not have escaped him at another time: a certaincraftiness, or low cunning that played occasionally on that disfiguredface. 

"What did you say I was to get if--"

"You shall have funds to take you out of the country, and I will engageto get and forward to you the money left in trust. The alternative, " hebent forward, "about fifteen years, if the traps--"

The fellow pondered; at last he answered. For a few minutes then JohnSteele wrote, looking up between words. His head bent now closer to thepaper, then drew back from it, as if through a slight uncertainty ofvision or because of the dim light. The fellow's eyes, watching him, lowered. 

"You know--none better!--that on that particular night some oneelse--some one besides the 'Frisco Pet--entered your mother's house?"

Oaths mingled with low filchers' slang; but the reply was forthcoming;other questions, too, were answered tentatively; sometimes at length, with repulsive fullness of detail. The speaker hesitated over words, shot sharp, short looks at the other; from the hand that wrote, to thefingers near that other object, --strong, firm fingers that seemed readyto leap; ready to act on any emergency. Unless--a shadow appeared topass over the broad, white brow, the motionless hand to waver, ever solittle. Then quickly the hand moved, rested on the brown handle of theweapon, enveloped it with light careless grasp. 

"You can state of your own knowledge what happened next?" John Steelespoke sharply; the fellow's red brows suddenly lifted. 

"Oh, yes, " he replied readily. 

John Steele's manner became shorter; his questions were put fast; heforced quick replies. He not only seemed striving to get through histask as soon as possible; but always to hold the other's attention, topermit his brain no chance to wander from the subject to any other. Butthe fellow seemed now to have become as tractable as before he had beensullen, stubborn; gave his version in his own vernacular, always keenlyattentive, observant of the other's every motion. His strength hadapparently returned; he seemed little the worse for his late encounter. At length came an interval; just for an instant John Steele's eyes shut;the fingers that had held the pen closed on the edge of the table. Aquick passing expression of ferocity hovered at the corners of theobserver's thick lips; he got up; at the same time John Steele rose andstepped abruptly back. 

"You know how to write your name?" His voice was firm, unwavering; therevolver had disappeared from the table and lay now in his pocket. 

"All right, gov'ner!" The other spoke with alacrity. "I'm game; abargain is a bargain, and I'll take your word for it, " leaning over andlaboriously tracing a few letters on the paper. "You'll do your part. You'll find me square and above board, although you did use me a littlerough. There, here's your affadavy. "

John Steele moved back to a corner of the room and pulled a wire; insome far-away place a bell rang faintly. "Are----, " he spoke a woman'sname, obviously a sobriquet, "and her daughter still here?"

"How?"

"Never mind; answer. "

"Yes, they're here, gov'ner. You'll want them for witnesses, I suppose. Well, I'll not be gainsaying you. " His tones were loud; conveyed a senseof rough heartiness; the other made no reply. 

Not long after, the paper, duly witnessed, lay on the table; thelandlady and her daughter had gone; John Steele only waited for the inkto dry. He had no blotter, or sand; the fluid was old, thick; theprincipal signature in its big strokes, with here and there a splutter, would be unintelligible if the paper were folded now. So he lingered;both men were silent; a few tense minutes passed. John Steele leanedagainst the wall; his temples throbbed; the fog seemed creeping into theroom and yet the door was closed. He moved toward the paper; stillmaintaining an aspect of outward vigilance, took it and held it beforehim as if to examine closer. 

The other said nothing, made no movement. When the women had come in, his accents had been almost too frank; the gentleman had called on alittle matter of business; he, Tom Rogers, had voluntarily signed thislittle paper, and they could bear witness to the fact. Now all thatprofanely free air had left him; he stood like a statue, his lipscompressed; his eyes alone were alive, speaking, alert. 

John Steele folded the paper and placed it in an inside pocket. Theother suddenly breathed heavily; John Steele, looking at him, walked tothe door leading to the street. He put his hand on the key and was aboutto turn it, but paused. Something without held his attention, --acrunching sound as of a foot on a pebble. It abruptly revived misgivingsthat had assailed him before entering the place, that he had felt as avague weight while dealing with the fellow. The police agent! Time hadpassed, too great an interval, though he had hastened, hastened as besthe might, struggling with his own growing weakness, the other's revivingpower. 

Again the sound! Involuntarily he turned his head; it was only aninstant's inattention, but Tom Rogers had been waiting for it. Springingbehind in a flash, he seized John Steele by the throat. It was a deadly, terrible grip; the fingers pressed harder; the other strove, but slowlyfell. As dizziness began to merge into oblivion, Rogers, withoutreleasing his hold, bent over. 

"You fool! Did you think I would let you get away with the paper? That Icouldn't see you were about done for?"

He looked at the white face; started to unbutton the coat; as he reachedin, his attention was suddenly arrested; he threw back his head. 

"The traps!"

Voices below resounded without. 

"So that was your game! Well, " savagely, "I think I have settled withyou. "

He had but time to run to the rear door, unbolt it and dash out, when acrashing of woodwork filled the place, and Mr. Gillett looked in. 

 * * * * *

CHAPTER XX

THE PAPER

When John Steele began to recover, he was dimly aware that he was in afour-wheeler which rattled along slowly through streets, now slightlymore discernible; by his side sat a figure that stirred when he did;spoke in crisp, official accents. He, Mr. Steele, would kindly not placeany further obstacles in the way of justice being done; it was uselessto attempt that; the police agent had come well armed, and, moreover, had taken the precaution for this little journey of providing a cab infront and one behind, containing those who knew how to act should thenecessity arise. 

John Steele heard these words without answering; his throat pained him;he could scarcely swallow; his head seemed bound around as by a tight, inflexible band. The cool air, however, gradually revived him; he drankit in gratefully and strove to think. A realization of what had occurredsurged through his brain, --the abrupt attack at the door; the arrival ofthe police agent. 

Furtively the prisoner felt his pocket; the memorandum book containingthe paper that had cost so much was gone; he looked at the agent. Had itbeen shifted to Mr. Gillett's possession, or, dimly he recalled hisassailant's last words, had Rogers succeeded in snatching the preciousevidence from his breast before escaping? In the latter case, it had, undoubtedly, ere this, been destroyed; in the former, it would, presumably, soon be transferred to the police agent's employer. Toregain the paper, if it existed, would be no light task; yet it was thepivot upon which John Steele's fortunes hung. The principal signer was, in all likelihood, making his way out of London now; he would, in a fewhours, reach the sea, and after that disappear from the case. At anyrate, John Steele could have nothing to hope from him in the future; theopportune or inopportune appearance of the police agent would savor oftreachery to him. John Steele moved, quickly, impatiently; but a hand, swung carelessly behind him, moved also, --a hand that held somethinghard. 

Thereafter he remained outwardly quiescent; resistance on his part, andthe consequences that would ensue, might not be displeasing to his chiefenemy; it would settle the case in short and summary fashion. Justification for extreme proceedings would be easily forthcoming andthere would be none to answer for John Steele. 

Where were they going? John Steele could not surmise; he saw, howeverthat they had left behind the neighborhood of hovels, narrow passagesand byways, and traversed now one of the principal circuses. There thestreet traffic moved smoothly; they seemed but an unimportant part of anendless procession which they soon left to turn into a less public, morearistocratic highway. A short distance down this street, the carriagessuddenly stopped before an eminently respectable and sedate front, and, not long after, John Steele, somewhat to his surprise, found himself inLord Ronsdale's rooms and that person's presence. 

The nobleman had been forewarned of John Steele's coming. He sat behinda high desk, his figure and part of his face screened by its massiveback. One drawer of the desk was slightly opened. What could be seen ofhis features appeared sharper than usual, as if the inner virulence, thedark hidden passions smoldering in his breast had at length stampedtheir impression on the outer man. When he first spoke his tones weremore irascible, less icily imperturbable, than they had been hitherto. They seemed to tell of a secret tension he had long been laboring under;but the steady cold eyes looked out from behind the wood barrier withvicious assurance. 

The police agent he addressed first; his services could be dispensedwith for the present; he should, however, remain in the hall with hismen. Mr. Gillett looked from the speaker to him he had brought there andafter a moment turned and obeyed; but the instant's hesitation seemed tosay that he began to realize there was more to the affair than he hadfathomed. 

"There is no need for many words between us, Mr. Steele. " LordRonsdale's accents were poignant and sharp. "Had you listened to whatMr. Gillett, on my behalf, would have said to you that night in thegardens at Strathorn House, we might, possibly, both of us, have beensaved some little annoyance. We now start at about where we were beforethat little contretemps. "

John Steele silently looked at Lord Ronsdale; his brain had again becomeclear; his thoughts, lucid. The ride through the cool and damp air, thisoutré encounter at the end of the journey, had acted as a tonic on jadedsense and faculty. He saw distinctly, heard very plainly; his ideasbegan to marshal themselves logically. He could have laughed at LordRonsdale, but the situation was too serious; the weakness of hisdefenses too obvious. Proofs, proofs, proofs, were what the English jurydemanded, and where were his? He could build up a story; yes, but--if hecould have known what had taken place between Mr. Gillett and this man afew minutes before, when the police agent had stepped in first andtarried here a brief period before ushering him in!

Had Mr. Gillett delivered to his noble patron the memorandum book andother articles filched from John Steele's pockets? That partly openeddrawer--what did it contain? The nobleman's hand lingered on the edge ofit; with an effort the other resisted allowing his glance to rest there. 

He even refused to smile when Lord Ronsdale, after a sharper look, askedhim to be seated; he seemed to sift and weigh the pros and cons of theinvitation in a curious, calm fashion; as if he felt himself there insome impersonal capacity for the purpose of solving a difficultcatechetical problem. 

"Yes; I think I will. " He sat down in a stiff, straight-backed chair; itmay be he felt the need of holding in reserve all his physical force, ofnot refusing to rest, even here. 

Lord Ronsdale's glance narrowed; he hesitated an instant. "To go back toStrathorn House--a very beautiful place to go back to, " his tones forthe moment lapsed to that high pitch they sometimes assumed, "Mr Gilletthad there received from me certain instructions. Whatever you oncewere, " seeming not to notice the other's expression, "you have since byyour own efforts attained much. How--?" His brows knit as at somethinginexplicable. "But the fact remained, was perhaps considered. Exposurewould have meant some--unpleasantness for your friends. " The eyes of thetwo men met; those of Lord Ronsdale were full of sardonic meaning. "Friends who had trusted you; who, " softly, "had admitted you to theirfiresides, not knowing--" he broke off. "They, " he still adhered to theplural, "would have been deeply shocked, pained; would still be if theyshould learn--"

"If?" John Steele did manage to contain himself, but it was with aneffort; perhaps he saw again through the fog a girl's face, white andaccusing, which had appeared; vanished. "You spoke of certaininstructions?" he even forced himself to say. 

"Mr. Gillett, in the garden at Strathorn House, was authorized by me tooffer you one chance of avoiding exposure, and, " deliberately, "theattendant consequences; you were to be suffered to leave London, thiscountry, with the stipulation that you should never return. " John Steeleshifted slightly. "You did not expect this, " quickly, "you had notincluded that contingency in your calculations?"

"I confess, " in an even, emotionless voice, "your lordship'scomplaisance amazes me. "

"And you would have accepted the alternative?" The nobleman's accentswere now those of the service, diplomatic; they were concise butmeasured. 

"Why discuss what could never have been considered?" was the bruskanswer. 

Lord Ronsdale frowned. "We are still fencing; we will waste no moretime. " Perhaps the other's manner, assured, contemptuously distant, goaded him; perhaps he experienced anew all that first violent, unreasoning anger against this man whose unexpected coming to London hadplunged him into an unwelcome and irritating role. "That alternative isstill open. Refuse, and--you will be in the hands of the authoritiesto-night. Resist--" His glittering eyes left no doubt whatever as to hismeaning. 

"I shall not resist, " said John Steele. "But--I refuse. " He spokerecklessly, regardlessly. 

"In that case--" Lord Ronsdale half rose; his face looked drawn butdetermined; he reached as if to touch a bell. "You force the issue, and--"

"One moment. " As he spoke John Steele stepped toward the fireplace; hegazed downward at a tiny white ash on the glowing coals; a little filmthat might have been--paper? "In a matter so important we may consider alittle longer, lest, " still regarding the hearth, "there may beafter-regrets. " His words even to himself sounded puerile; but what theyled to had more poignancy; he lifted now his keen glowing eyes. "In onelittle regard I did your lordship an injustice. "

"In what way?" The nobleman had been studying him closely, had followedthe direction of his glance; noted almost questioningly what it hadrested on--the coals, or vacancy?

"In supposing that you yourself murdered Amy Gerard, " came theunexpected response. The other started violently. "Your lordship willforgive the assumption in view of what occurred on a certain stormynight at sea, when a drowning wretch clung with one hand to a gunwale, and you, in answer to his appeal for succor, bent over and--"

"It's a lie!" The words fell in a sharp whisper. 

"What?" John Steele's laugh sounded mirthlessly. "However, we will givea charitable interpretation to the act; the boat was alreadyovercrowded; one more might have endangered all. Call it an impulse ofself-preservation. Self-preservation, " he repeated; "the struggle of thesurvival of the fittest! Let the episode go. Especially as your lordshipincidentally did me a great service; a very great service. " The otherstared at him. "I should have looked at it only in that light, and thenit would not have played me the trick it did of affording a falsehypothesis for a certain conclusion. Your lordship knows what I mean, how the true facts in this case of Amy Gerard have come to light?"

John Steele's glance was straight, direct; if the other had the paper, had read it, he would know. 

Lord Ronsdale looked toward the bell, hesitated. "I think you had bettertell me, " he said at last. 

"If your lordship did not kill the woman--if the 'Frisco Pet did not, then who did?" Ronsdale leaned forward just in the least; his eyesseemed to look into the other's as if to ask how much, just what, he hadlearned. John Steele studied the nobleman with a purpose of his own. "Why, she killed herself, " he said suddenly. 

"How?" The nobleman uttered this word, then stopped; John Steele waited. Had Lord Ronsdale been surprised at his knowledge? He could hardly tell, from his manner, whether or not he had the affidavit and had read it. 

"How--interesting!" The nobleman was willing to continue the verbalcontest a little longer; that seemed a point gained. "May I ask how itoccurred?"

"Oh, it is all very commonplace! Your lordship had received athreatening letter and called on the woman. She wanted money; yourefused. She already had a husband living in France, a ruined gambler ofthe Bourse, but had tricked you into thinking she was your wife. You haddiscovered the deception and discarded her. From a music-hall singer shehad gone down--down, until she, once beautiful, courted, had become amere--what she was, associate of one like Dandy Joe, cunning, unscrupulous. At your refusal to become the victim of their blackmailingscheme, she in her anger seized a weapon; during the struggle, it wasaccidentally discharged. "

Was Lord Ronsdale asking himself how the other had learned this? IfRogers had escaped with the paper, John Steele knew Ronsdale might wellwonder that the actual truth should have been discovered; he would not, under those circumstances, even be aware of the existence of a witnessof the tragedy. But was Lord Ronsdale assuming a manner, meetingsubtlety with subtlety? John Steele went on quietly, studying his enemywith close, attentive gaze. 

"At sound of the shot, Joe, who had been waiting below in the kitchenwith the landlady, rushed up-stairs. You explained how it happened; werewilling enough to give money now to get away quietly without beingdragged into the affair. The dead woman's confederate, greedy for gaineven at such a moment, would have helped you; but there was adifficulty: would the police accept the story of suicide? There weresigns of a struggle. At that instant some one entered the house, camestumbling up the stairs; it was the--'Frisco Pet. "

John Steele paused; his listener sat stiff, immovable. "Joe hurried youout, toward a rear exit, but not before, " leaning slightly toward LordRonsdale, "an impression of your face, pale, drawn, had vaguely stampeditself on the befuddled brain, " bitterly, "of the fool-brute. You lostno time in making your escape; little was said between you and Joe; buthe proved amenable to your suggestion; the way out of the difficulty wasfound. He hated the Pet, who had once or twice handled him roughly forabusing this poor creature. You gave Joe money to have the landlady'stestimony agree with his; she never got that money, " meaningly, "butgave the desired evidence. Joe had found out something. "

Once more the speaker stopped; there remained a crucial test. If LordRonsdale had the paper, what John Steele was about to say would causehim no surprise; he would be prepared for it. The words fell sharply:

"The landlady's son, Tom Rogers, was at the time in the house, in hidingfrom the police. He was concealed above in a small room or garret;through a stove-pipe opening, disused, he looked down into thesitting-room below and heard, saw all!"

The effect was instantaneous, magical; Lord Ronsdale sprang to his feet;John Steele looked at him, at the wavering face, the uncertain eyes. Nodoubt existed now in his mind; Gillett had not secured the paper, or hewould have given it to his patron when they were alone. That fact waspatent; the document was gone, irretrievably; there could be no hope ofrecovering it. The bitter knowledge that it had really once existedwould not serve John Steele long. But with seeming resolution he wenton: "I had the story from his own lips, " deliberately, "put in the formof an affidavit, duly signed and witnessed. "

"You did?" Lord Ronsdale stared at him a long time. "This is asubterfuge. "

"It is true. "

"Where--is the paper?"

"Not in my pocket. "

The other considered. "You mean it is in a safe place?"

"One would naturally take care of such a document. "

"You did not have any such paper at Strathorn. "

"No?" John Steele smiled but he did not feel like smiling. "Not therecertainly. "

"I mean no such paper existed then, or you would have taken advantage ofit. "

John Steele did not answer; he looked at the drawer. The affidavit wasnot there; but something else was. 

"You are resourceful, that is all. "

Lord Ronsdale had now quite recovered himself; he sank back into hischair. "You have, out of fancy, constructed a libelous theory; one thatyou can not prove; one that you would be laughed at for advancing. Acock-and-bull story about a witness who was not a witness; a paper thatdoesn't exist, that never existed. "

A sound at the door caused him to turn sharply; a knocking had passedunheeded. The door opened, closed. Mr. Gillett, a troubled, perturbedlook on his face, stood now just within. "Your lordship!"

"Well?" the nobleman's manner was peremptory. 

The police agent, however, came forward slowly. "I have here somethingthat one of our men has just turned over to me. " John Steele started;but neither of the others noticed. "He found it at the last place wewere; evidently it had been dropped by the fellow who was there and whofled at our coming. " As he spoke, he stepped nearer the desk, in hishand a paper. 

"What is it?" Lord Ronsdale demanded testily. 

Mr. Gillett did not at once answer; he looked at John Steele; the latterstood like a statue; only his eyes were turned toward the nobleman, tothe thin aristocratic hand yet resting on the edge of the drawer. 

"If your lordship will glance at it?" said Mr. Gillett, proffering thesheet. 

The nobleman did so; his face changed; his eyes seemed unable to leavethe paper. Suddenly he gave a smothered explanation; tore the sheetonce, and started up, took a step toward the fire. 

"Stop!" The voice was John Steele's; he stood now next to thepartly-opened drawer, in his hand that which had been concealed there, something bright, shining. Lord Ronsdale wheeled, looked at the weaponand into the eyes behind it. "Place those two bits of paper there--onthe edge of the desk!"

 * * * * *

CHAPTER XXI

A CONDITION

Lord Ronsdale hesitated; his thin jaws were set so that the bones of thecheek showed; his eyes gleamed. When he did move it was as if blindly, precipitately, to carry out his first impulse. 

"I wouldn't!" What John Steele held vaguely included, in the radius ofits possibilities, Mr. Gillett. "Unless--"

"You wouldn't dare!" Lord Ronsdale trembled, but with impotent passion, not fear. "It would be--"

"Self-defense! The paper would remain--full vindication. In fact thepaper already is mine. Whether I kill you or not is merely incidental. And to tell you the truth I don't much care how you decide!"

Again Lord Ronsdale seemed almost to forget caution; almost, but notquite; perhaps he was deterred by the look on John Steele's face, scornful, mocking, as half-inviting him to cast all prudence to thewinds. This bit of evidence that he had not calculated upon, it was hardto give it up; but no other course remained. Besides, another, Gillett, knew of its existence; Lord Ronsdale felt he could not depend on thatperson in an emergency of this kind; the police agent's manner was notreassuring. He seemed inclined to be more passive than aggressive;perhaps he had been somewhat overcome by this unexpected revelation andthe deep waters he who boasted of an "eminently respectable andreputable agency" had unwittingly drifted into; in climaxes of thischaracter one's thoughts are likely to center on self, to the exclusionof patron or employer, however noble. The police agent looked atRonsdale and waited to see what he would do. 

The nobleman moved toward the desk; the paper fluttered from his coldfingers; when once more John Steele buttoned his coat the affidavit hadagain found lodgment in his waistcoat pocket. 

It seemed a tame, commonplace end; but it was the end; all three menknew it. John Steele's burning glance swept from Lord Ronsdale toGillett; lingered with mute contemplation. What now remained to be doneshould be easily, it seemed almost too easily, accomplished. He feltlike one lingering on the stage after the curtain had gone down; thevaried excitement, the fierce play of emotion was over; the actorshardly appeared interesting. 

What he said was for Lord Ronsdale alone; after Gillett had gone, helaid down a condition. In certain respects it was a moment of triumph;but he experienced no exultation, only a supreme weariness, an anxietyto be done with the affair, to go. But the one point had first to bemade, emphasized; to be accepted by the other violently, quietly, resignedly, --John Steele did not care what his attitude might be; whathe chiefly felt was that he did not wish to waste much time on him. 

"And if I refuse to let you dictate in a purely private concern?" LordRonsdale, white with passion, had answered. 

"The end will be the same for you. As matters stand, Sir Charles nodoubt thinks still that you would make a desirable _parti_ for hisniece. His wife, Lady Wray, unquestionably shares that opinion. Theircombined influence might in time prevail, and Jocelyn Wray yield totheir united wishes. This misfortune, " with cutting deadliness of tone, "it is obvious must be averted. You will consent to withdraw allpretensions in that direction, or you will force me to make public thispaper. A full exposition of the case I think would materially affect SirCharles and Lady Wray's attitude as to the desirability of an alliancebetween their family and yours. "

"And yourself? You forget, " with a sneer, "how it would affect you!"

"Myself!" John Steele laughed. "You fool! Do you imagine I wouldhesitate for that reason?"

The nobleman looked at him, at the glowing, contemptuous eyes. "Hesitate? Perhaps not! You love her yourself, and--"

John Steele stepped toward him. "Stop, or--I have once been almost onthe point of killing you to-night--don't--" he broke off. "Thecondition? You consent or not?"

"And if I--? You would--?"

"Keep your cowardly secret? Yes!"

To this the other had replied; of necessity the scene had dragged alonga little farther; then John Steele found himself on the stairway, goingdown. 

It was over, this long, stubborn contest; he hardly heard or saw a cabdrive up and stop before the house as he went out to the street, wasscarcely conscious of some one leaving it, some one about to enter whosuddenly stopped at sight of him and exclaimed eagerly, warmly. He wasnot surprised; with apathy he listened to the new-comer's words;rambling, disconnected, about a letter that had intercepted him atBrighton and brought him post-haste to London. 

A letter? John Steele had entered the cab; he sank back; when had hewritten a letter? Weeks ago; he looked at this face, familiar, far-off;the fog was again rising around him. He could hardly see; he was glad hedid not have to stir; he seemed to breathe with difficulty. 

"Where--are we going?"

"To Rosemary Villa. "

"I--should prefer--my own chambers"--John Steele spoke with aneffort--"it is nearer--and I'm a bit done up. Besides, after a littlerest, there are--some business matters--to be attended to--that willneed looking after as soon as--"

His head fell forward; Captain Forsythe looked at him; called up loudly, excitedly to the driver. 

 * * * * *

CHAPTER XXII

NEAR THE RIVER

A dubious sort of day, one that seemed vainly trying to appear cheerful!A day that threw out half-promises, that showed tentatively on the sky amottled blur where the sun should have been! On such a day, a monthafter that night in Lord Ronsdale's rooms, Captain Forsythe, calling onJohn Steele, found himself admitted to the sitting-room. While waitingfor an answer to his request to see Mr. Steele, he gazed disapprovinglyaround him. The rooms were partly dismantled; a number of boxeslittering the place indicating preparations to move. Captain Forsythesurveyed these cases, more or less filled; then he shook his head andlighted a cigar. But as he smoked he seemed asking himself a question;he had not yet found the answer when a footstep was heard and thesubject of his ruminations entered the room. John Steele's face waspaler than it had been; thinner, like that of a man who had recentlysuffered some severe illness. 

"Ah, Forsythe!" he said, with an assumption of cheeriness. "So good ofyou!"

"That's all very well, " was the answer. "But what about those?" With hiscigar he indicated vaguely the boxes. 

"Those? Not yet all packed, are they? Lazy beggars, your Londonservants, just before leaving you!" he laughed. 

"See here!" Forsythe looked at him. "You're not well enough yet to--"

"Never felt better!"

"No chance to get you to change your mind, I suppose?"

"Not in the least!"

For a few moments Forsythe said nothing; then, "Weed?" he asked, offering Steele a cigar. 

"Don't believe I'll begin just yet a while. "

"Oh!" significantly. "Quite fit, eh?" Forsythe's tone sounded, in theleast, scoffing; John Steele went to the window; stood with his back toit. A short time passed; the military man puffed more quickly. It seemedthe irony of fate, or friendship, that now that he was just beginning toget better acquainted with Steele the latter should inconsistentlydetermine to leave London. 

"Anything I can do for you when you're away?" began Captain Forsythe. "Command me, if there is. Needn't say--"

"There's only one thing, " John Steele looked at him; his voice wassteady, quiet. "And we've already spoken about that. You will let meknow if Ronsdale doesn't keep to the letter of the condition?"

"Very well. " Captain Forsythe's expression changed slightly, but theother did not appear to notice. "Although I don't imagine thecontingency will arise, " he added vaguely, looking at his cigar ratherthan John Steele. 

"Nevertheless I shall leave with you certified copies of all thepapers, " said Steele in a short matter-of-fact tone. "These, togetherwith the one you furnished me, are absolutely conclusive. "

"The one I furnished you!" Captain Forsythe rested his chin on the knobof his stick. "Odd about that, wasn't it?--that the day in the libraryat Strathorn House, when I was about to tell you how I had bettersuccess the second time I visited the landlady, we should have beeninterrupted. And, " looking at the other furtively, "by Jocelyn Wray!"Steele did not answer. "If I had only seen the drift of your inquiries, had detected more than a mere perfunctory interest! With the confessiongiven me on her death-bed by the landlady, that she had testifiedfalsely to protect her good-for-nothing son, and acknowledging thatanother whom she did not know by name, but whom she described minutely, had entered the house on the fatal night--with this confession in yourhands, a world of trouble might have been saved. As it is, " he endedhalf-ruefully, "you have found me most unlike the proverbial friend inneed, who is--"

"A friend, indeed!" said John Steele, placing a hand on the other'sshoulder, while a smile, somewhat constrained, lighted his face for amoment. "Who at once rose to the occasion; hastened to London on thereceipt of a letter that was surely a test of friendship--"

"Oh, I don't know about that!" quickly. "Test of friendship, indeed!"Captain Forsythe looked slightly embarrassed beneath the keen searchingeyes. "Don't think of it, or--Besides, " brightening, "I had to come;telegram from Miss Wray, don't you know. "

"Miss Wray!" Steele's hand fell suddenly to his side; he looked withabrupt, swift inquiry at the other. 

Captain Forsythe bit his lips. "By Jove!--forgot--" he murmured. "Wasn'tto say anything about that. "

"However, as you have--" John Steele regarded him steadily. "Youreceived a telegram from--"

"At the same time that your letter intercepted me at Brighton. "

"Asking you to return to London?"

"Exactly. She--wanted to see me. "

"About?" John Steele's eyes asked a question; the other nodded. "Ofcourse; not difficult to understand; her desire to hush up the affair;her fear, " with a short laugh, "lest the scandal become known. A guestat Strathorn House had been--"

"I don't think it was for--"

"You found out, " shortly, "that she, too, had learned--knew--"

"Yes; she made me aware of that at once when she came to see me with SirCharles. It was she sent your luggage--"

"Sir Charles? Then he, also?--"

"No. You--you need feel no apprehension on that score. " A peculiarexpression came into the other's glance. "You see his niece told him itwas not her secret; asked him to help her, to trust her. Never was a manmore perplexed, but he kept the word he gave her on leaving for London, and forebore to question her. Even when they drove through London inthat fog--"

"Yes, yes. I know--"

"You? How--?"

John Steele seemed not to hear. "She saw you that night?"

"She did, alone in the garden of Rosemary Villa. Sir Charles behavedsplendidly. 'All right, my dear; some day you'll tell me, perhaps, ' hesaid to her. 'Meanwhile, I'll possess my soul in patience. ' So while hesmoked in the cab, we talked it over. " An instant he regarded JohnSteele as if inviting him to look behind these mere words; but JohnSteele's half-averted face appeared set, uncommunicative. Perhaps againhe saw the girl as he had last seen her at Strathorn House; herfeatures, alive, alight, with scorn and wounded pride. 

"Well?" he said shortly. "And the upshot of it all was--"

"She suggested my going to Lord Ronsdale. "

"To invoke his assistance, perhaps!" Steele once more laughed. "As anold friend!" Captain Forsythe started to speak; the other went on:"Well, we'll keep his secret, as long as he keeps his compact. "

"But--"

"I promised. What does it matter? Sir Charles may be disappointed at notbeing able to bring about--But for her sake--that is the mainconsideration. "

"And you, the question of your own innocence--to her?" Forsythe lookedat him narrowly, smiled slightly to himself. 

"Is--inconsequential! The main point is--the 'Frisco Pet is dead. Gillett won't speak; you won't; Lord Ronsdale can't. Another to whom Iam about to tell the story, will, I am sure, be equally silent. "

"Another? You don't mean to say you are deliberately going to--" CaptainForsythe frowned; a bell rang. 

John Steele smiled. "Can you think of no one to whom I am bound to tellthe truth, the whole truth? Who extended me his hand in friendship, invited me to his home? Of course it would be easier to go withoutspeaking; it is rather difficult to own that one has accepted a man'shospitality, stepped beneath his roof and sat at his board, as--not tomince words--an impostor. I could have delegated you--to tell him all;but that wouldn't do. It is probably a part of the old, old debt; but Imust meet him face to face; so I have sent for--"

A servant opened the door of the library; Sir Charles Wray walked in. 

 * * * * *

Below, in the cab, Jocelyn waited; her pale face expressed restlessness;her eyes, deep and shining, were bent on the river, fixed unseeingly ona small boat that struggled, struggled almost in vain, against thecurrent. Then they lowered to something she held in her hand, a bit ofcrumpled paper. It was John Steele's note to Sir Charles asking him tocall; stating nothing beyond a mere perfunctory request to that end, giving no reason for his wish to see him. 

Her eyes lingered on the message; beneath the bright golden hair, herbrows drew together. The handwriting was in the least unlike his, notquite so bold and firm as that she remembered in one or two messagesfrom him to her--some time ago. But then he had been ill, CaptainForsythe had told her, and was still, he thought, far from well. 

She made a movement; the little fingers crumpled the message; then oneof them thrust it within her glove. She continued to sit motionless, howlong? The small boat, with sail at the bow and plodding oar at stern, atlength drew out of sight; the paper made itself felt in her warm palm. Why did not her uncle return? He had been gone some time now; what--whatcould detain him?

"Can you drop in at my chambers for a few minutes?" John Steele hadwritten. "A few minutes;" the blue eyes shone with impatience. He wasleaving London, Captain Forsythe had informed her; and, she concluded, he wanted to see her uncle before he left. But not her, no; she haddriven there, however, with Sir Charles, on some light pretext--for wantof something better to do--to be out in the air--

"I'll wait here in the cab, " she had said to her uncle, when he had leftit before John Steele's dwelling. "At least, " meeting the puzzled gazethat had rested on her more than once lately, "I may, or may not wait. If I get tired--if when you come back, you don't find me, justconclude, " capriciously, "I have gone on some little errand of my own. Shopping, perhaps. "

"Jocelyn!" he had said, momentarily held by her eyes, her feverishmanner. "There is something wrong, isn't there? Hasn't the time comeyet, to tell?"

"Something wrong? What nonsense!" she had laughed. 

She recalled these words now, found it intolerable to sit still. Abruptly she rose and stepped from the cab. 

"My uncle is gone a long while, " she said to the man, up behind. 

"Oh, no, miss; not so werry!" consulting a watch. "A matter of tenminutes; no more. "

No more! She half started to move away; looked toward the house. Brassplates, variously disposed around the entrance and appearing nearly allalike as to form and size, stared at her. One metal sign a shock-headedlad was removing--"John Steele"--she read the plain, modest letters, theinscription, "Barrister" beneath; she caught her breath slightly. 

"He certainly is very long, " she repeated mechanically. 

"Why don't you go in and see wot's detaining of him?" vouchsafed thecabby in amicable fashion as he regarded the hesitating, slender figure. "That's wot my missus allus does, when she thinks the occasion--whichI'll not be mentioning--the proper one. "

"Third floor to the right, miss!" said the boy, occupied in removing thesign and stepping aside as he spoke, to allow her to pass. "If it's Mr. Steele's office you're looking for! You'll see 'Barrister' in brassletters, as I said to the old gentleman; I haven't got at them yet; totake them down, I mean. "

"Thank you, " she said irresolutely, and without intending to enter, found herself within the hall. There a narrow stairway lay before her;he pointed to it; with an excess of juvenile solicitude and politeness, boyhood's involuntary tribute to youth and beauty in need of assistance, he told her to go on, "straight up. "

And she did, unreasoningly, mechanically; one flight, two flights! Thesteps were well worn; how many people had walked up and down herecarrying burdens with them. Poor people, crime-laden people! Before manydoors, she saw other signs, "Barristers. " And of that multitude ofclients, how many left these offices with heavy hearts! In that dim, vague light of stairway and landings she seemed to feel, to see, aghostly procession, sad-eyed, weary. But Captain Forsythe had said thatJohn Steele had helped many, many. Her own heart seemed strangely inert, without life; she stood suddenly still, as if asking herself why she wasthere. 

Near his door! About to turn, to retrace her steps--an illogicalsequence to the illogical action that had preceded it, she was held tothe spot by the door suddenly opening; a man--a servant, broom inhand--who had evidently been engaged in cleaning one of the chamberswithin, was stepping out! In surprise he regarded her, this unusual typeof visitor, simply yet perfectly gowned. A lady, or a girl--patrician, aristocratic to her finger-tips; very fair, striking to look upon! Sodifferent from most of the people who came hither to air their troubles, to seek assistance. 

"You wished to see Mr. Steele?"

For an instant the servant's words and his direct, almost challenginglook held the girl. Usually self-contained as she was, she felt thatperhaps he had caught some fleeting expression in her eyes, when at hisabrupt appearance she had lifted them with a start from the brassletters. The proud head nodded affirmatively to the inquiry. 

"Well, you can be stepping into the library, miss, " said the man. "Mr. Steele is engaged just now; but--"

"That is just it, " she said, straightening. "My uncle is with him, and Iwished to see--"

"If you will walk in, " he said. "You can wait here. "

Jocelyn on the instant found no reason for refusing; the door closedbehind her; she looked around. She stood in a library alone; beyond, inanother chamber, she heard voices--her uncle's, John Steele's. 

 * * * * *

CHAPTER XXIII

PAST AND PRESENT

And yet those tones were not exactly like John Steele's; they soundedfamiliar, yet different. What made the difference? His recent illness?The character of what he was saying, the fact that he representedhimself, not another, in this case? He was speaking quickly, clearly, tersely. Very tersely, thought the girl; not, however, to spare himself;a covert ring of self-scorn precluded that idea. 

"Those boxes contained books; yours, Sir Charles!" were the first wordsthe girl caught. 

"Mine! Bless my soul!" Her uncle's surprised voice broke in. "You don'tmean to tell me that all those volumes I had boxed for Australia andwhich I thought lost on the _Lord Nelson_ came ashore on your littlecoral isle?"

Came ashore on his coral isle; the girl caught at the words. Of coursehe had been saved, he who had saved her from the wild sea; she hadrealized that after their last meeting at Strathorn House. But how? Hehad reached an island, then--by what means? Some day her uncle wouldtell her; she understood now why he had sent for Sir Charles, the motivethat had prompted him to an ordeal, not at all easy. She was glad; shewould never have told herself, and yet she could realize, divine, thepoignant pain this lifting of the curtain, this laying bare the past, must cost him. She, too, seemed to feel a part of that pain; why? It wasunaccountable. 

"Exactly!" said John Steele succinctly. "And never were angels indisguise more foully welcomed!"

"Bless my soul!" Sir Charles' amazed voice could only repeat. "Iremember most of those books well--a brave array; poets, philosophers, lawmakers! Then that accounts for your--! It is like a fairy tale. "

"A fairy tale!" Jocelyn Wray gazed around her; at books, books, on everyside. She regarded the door leading out; was half-mindful to go; butheard the man-servant in the hall--and lingered. 

"Nothing so pleasant, I assure you, " John Steele answered Sir Charlesshortly. Then with few words he painted a picture uncompromisingly; thegirl shrank back; perhaps she wished she had not come. This, truly, wasno fairy tale, but a wild, savage drama, primeval, the picture of a soulbattling with itself on the little lonely isle. She could see the hot, angry sun, feel its scorching rays, hear the hissing of the waves. Allthe man's strength for good, for ill, went into the story; the islebecame as the pit of Acheron; at first there were no stars overhead. Thegirl was very pale; she could not have left now; she had never imaginedanything like this. She had looked into Greek books, seen pictures ofmen chained to rocks and struggling against the anger of the gods--butthey had appeared the mere fantasies of mythology. The drama of thelittle coral isle seemed to unfold a new and real vista of life intowhich she had unconsciously strayed. She hardly breathed; her hand hadleaped to her breast; she felt alternately oppressed, thrilled. Her eyeswere star-like; but like stars behind mist. Strange! strange!

"When the man woke, " he had said, "he cursed the sea for bringing him ashe thought nothing. One desire tormented him. It became intolerable. Dayafter day he went down to the ocean, but the surf only leaped inderision. For the thousandth time he cursed it, the isle to which he wasbound. Weeks passed, until, almost mad through the monotony of the longhours, one day he inadvertently picked up a book. The brute convictcould just read. Where, how he ever learned, I forget. He began to pickout the words. After that--"

"After that?" The girl had drawn closer; his language was plain, matter-of-fact. The picture that he drew was without color; she, however, saw through a medium of her own. The very landscape changednow, remained no longer the terrible, barren environment. She seemed tohear the singing of the birds, the softer murmur of the waves, thepurring of the stream. It was like a mask, one of those poeticinterpolations that the olden poets sometimes introduced in theirtragedies. John Steele paused. Was it over?--Almost; the coral islebecame a study; there was not much more to tell. Through the longmonths, the long years, the man had fought for knowledge as he hadalways fought for anything; with all his strength, passion, energy. 

"Incredible! By Jove!" she heard Sir Charles' voice, awed and admiring. "I told you, Steele, when you were about to begin, that we people of theantipodes take a man for what he is, not for what he was. But I am gladto have had your confidence and--and--tell me, how did you happen tolight on the law, for special study and preparation?"

"You forget that about half your superb library was law-books, SirCharles. A most comprehensive collection!"

"So they were! But you must have had wonderful aptitude. "

"The law--the ramifications it creates for the many, the attendantrestraints for the individual--I confess interested me. You can imaginea personal reason or--an abstract one. From the lonely perspective of atiny coral isle, a system, or systems, --codes of conduct, or morals, built up for the swarming millions, so to speak!--could not but possessfascination for one to whom those millions had become only as thefar-away shadows of a dream. You will find a few of those books, minusfly-leaf and book-plate, it shames me to say!--still in my library, and--"

"Bless you; you're welcome to them, " hastily. "No wonder that day in mylibrary you spoke as you did about books. 'Gad! it's wonderful! But yousay at first you could hardly read? Your life, then, as a boy--pardonme; it's not mere idle curiosity. "

"As a boy!" John Steele repeated the words almost mechanically. "Myparents died when I was a child; they came of good stock--New England. "He uttered the last part of the sentence involuntarily; stopped. "I wasbound out, was beaten. I fought, ran away. In lumber camps, the drunkenriffraff cursed the new scrub boy; on the Mississippi, the sailors andstevedores kicked him because the mate kicked them. Everywhere it wasthe same; the boy learned only one thing, to fight. Fight, or be beaten!On the plains, in the mountains, before the fo'castle, it was the same. Fight, or--" he broke off. "It was not a boyhood; it was a contention. "

"I believe you. " Sir Charles' accents were half-musing. "And if you willpardon me, I'll stake a good deal that you fought straight. " He paused. "But to go back to your isle, your magic isle, if you please. You wererescued, and then?"

"In a worldly sense, I prospered; in New Zealand, in Tasmania. Fate, asif to atone for having delayed her favors, now lavished them freely;work became easy; a mine or two that I was lucky enough to locate, yielded, and continues to yield, unexpected returns. Without especiallydesiring riches, I found myself more than well-to-do. "

"And then having fairly, through your own efforts, won a place in theworld, having conquered fortune, why did you return to England knowingthe risk, that some one of these fellows like Gillett, the police agent, might--"

"Why, " said John Steele, "because I wished to sift, to get to the verybottom of this crime for which I was convicted. For all realwrong-doing--resisting officers of the law--offenses againstofficialdom--I had paid the penalty, in full, I believe. But this othermatter--that was different. It weighed on me through those years on theisland and afterward. A jury had convicted me wrongfully; but I had toprove it; to satisfy myself, to find out beyond any shadow of a doubt, and--"

"He did. " For the first time Captain Forsythe spoke. "Steele has in hispossession full proofs of his innocence and I have seen them; they go toshow that he suffered through the cowardice of a miserable cad, a titledscoundrel who struck his hand from the gunwale of the boat when the_Lord Nelson_ went down, yes, you told that story in your feveredramblings, Steele. "

"Forsythe!" the other's voice rang out warningly. "Didn't I tell you thepart he played was to be forgotten unless--"

"All right, have your way, " grudgingly. 

"A titled scoundrel! There was only one person of rank on the _LordNelson_ besides myself, and--Forsythe"--the old nobleman's voice calledout sharply--"you have said too much or too little. "

John Steele made a gesture. "I have given my word not to--"

"But I haven't!" said Captain Forsythe. "The confession I procured, andwhat I subsequently learned, led me directly to--Here is the tale, SirCharles. "

 * * * * *

It was over at last; they were gone, Sir Charles and Captain Forsythe;their hand-clasps still lingered in his. That was something, very much, John Steele told himself; but, oddly, with no perceptible thrill ofsatisfaction. Had he become dead to approval? What did he want? Or whathad been wanting? Sir Charles had been affable, gracious; eminently justin his manner. But the old man's sensibilities had been cruelly shocked;Ronsdale, the son of his old friend, a miserable coward who, if thetruth were known, would be asked to resign from every club he belongedto! And he, Sir Charles, had desired a closer bond between him and onehe loved well, his own niece!

Perhaps John Steele divined why the hearty old man's face had grown sograve. Sir Charles might well experience shame for this retrogression ofone of his own class, the broken obligations of nobility; the traditionsshattered. But he thanked John Steele in an old-fashioned, courtly wayfor what he had once done for his niece whose life he had saved. Perhapsit was the reaction in himself; perhaps John Steele merely fancied adistance in the other's very full and punctilious expression of personalindebtedness; his courteous reiteration that he should feel honored byhis presence at any and all times at his house!

For a few moments now John Steele remained motionless, listening totheir departing footsteps; then turned and gazed around him. 

Never had his rooms appeared more cheerless, more barren, more empty. No, not empty; they were filled with memories. Hardly pleasant ones;recollections of struggles, contentions that had led him to--what? Hischambers seemed very still; the little street very silent. Time had beenwhen he had not felt its solitude; now he experienced only a sense ofirksomeness, isolation. The man squared his shoulders and looked outagain from the window toward that small bit of the river he could justdiscern. Once he had gazed at it when its song seemed to be of the greenbanks and flowers it had passed by; but that had been on a faireroccasion; at the close of a joyous, spring day. How it came back to him;the solemn court of justice, the beautiful face, an open doorway, withthe sunshine golden without and a figure that, ere passing into it, hadturned to look back! It was but for an instant, yet again his gazeseemed to leap to that luring light, the passing gleam of her eyes, thathad lingered--

That he saw now! or was it a dream? At the threshold near-by, some onelooked out; some one as fair, fairer, if that could be, whose cheekswore the tint of the wild rose. 

"Pardon me; I came up to see if my uncle--"

He stared at her, at the beautiful, tremulous lips, the sheen of herhair--

"You!--"

"Yes. " She raised a small, gloved hand and swept back a disorderedtress. 

"Your--your uncle has just gone, " he said. 

"I know. "

"You do?" He knew it was no dream, that the fever had not returned, thatshe really stood there. Yet it seemed inexplicable. 

"I was in the library when they--went out. I had come up to see--I waswith my uncle in the cab--and wondered why he--"

She stopped; he took a quick step toward her. "You were in there, thatroom, when--"

"Yes, " she said, and threw back her head, as if to contradict a suddenmistiness that seemed stupidly sweeping over her gaze. "Why did you nottell me--you did not?--that you were innocent?"

"You were in there?" He did not seem to catch her words. "Heard--heard--?"

A moment they stood looking at each other; suddenly she reached out herhands to him. With a quick exclamation he caught and held them. 

But in a moment he let them fall. What had he been about to say, to do, with the fair face, the golden head, so near? He stepped backquickly--madness! Had he not yet learned control? Had the lessons notbeen severe enough? But he was master of himself now, could look at hercoldly. Fortunately she had not guessed, did not know he had almost--Shestood near the back of a chair, her face half-averted; perhaps sheappeared slightly paler, but he was not sure; it might be only theshadow of the thick golden hair. 

"You--are going away?" She was the first to speak. Her voice was, in theleast, uncertain. 

"To-morrow, " without looking at her. 

"Where, if I may ask?"

"To my own country. "

"America. "

"Yes. "

"It is very large, " irrelevantly. "I remember--of course, you are anAmerican; I--I have hardly realized it; we, we Australians are not sounlike you. "

"Perhaps, " irrelevantly on his part, "because your country, also, is--"

"Big, " said the girl. Her hands moved slightly. "Are--are you going toremain there? In America, I mean?"

He expected to; John Steele spoke in a matter-of-fact tone; he couldtrust himself now. The interview was just a short, perfunctory one; itwould soon be over; this he repeated to himself. 

"But--your friends--here?" Her lips half-veiled a tremulous littlesmile. 

"My friends!" Something flashed in his voice, went, leaving him veryquiet. "I am afraid I have not made many while in London. " Her eyeslifted slightly, fell. "Call it the homing instinct!" he went on with alaugh. "The desire once more to become part and parcel of one's nativeland; to become a factor, however small, in its activities. "

"I don't think you--will be--a small factor, " said the girl in a lowtone. 

He seemed not to hear. "To take up the fight where I left it, when aboy--"

"The fight!" The words had a far-away sound; perhaps she saw once more, in fancy, an island, the island. Life was for strong people, strivingpeople. And he had fought and striven many times; hardest of all, withhimself. She stole a glance at his face; he was looking down; thesilence lengthened. He waited; she seemed to find nothing else to say. He too did not speak; she found herself walking toward the door. 

"Good-by. " The scene seemed the replica of a scene somewhere else, sometime before. Ah, in the garden, amid flowers, fragrance. There wereno flowers here--

"Good-by. " He spoke in a low voice. "As I told Captain Forsythe, you--you need not feel concern about the story ever coming out--"

"Concern? What do you mean?"

"Your telegram to Captain Forsythe, the fear that brought you toLondon--"

"The--you thought that?"--swiftly. 

"What else?"

The indignation in her eyes met the surprise in his. 

"Thank you, " she said; "thank you for that estimate of me!"

"Miss Wray!" Contrition, doubt, amazement mingled in his tone. 

"Good-by, " she said coldly. 

And suddenly, as one sees through a rift in the clouds the clear light, he understood. 

 * * * * *

"You will go with me? You!"

"Why, as for that--"

Fleece of gold! Heaven of blue eyes! They were so near!

"And if I did, you who misinterpret motives, would think--"

"What?"

"That I came here to--"

"I should like to think that. "

"Well, I came, " said the girl, "I don't know why! Unless the boy who wastaking down the signs had something to do with it!"

"The--?"

"He said to go 'straight up'!" she laughed. 

He laughed, too; all the world seemed laughing. He hardly knew what hesaid, how she answered; only that she was there, slender, beautiful, asthe springtime full of flowers; that a miracle had happened, washappening. The mottled blur in the sky had become a spot of brightness;sunshine filled the room; in a cage above, a tiny feathered creaturebegan to chirp. 

"And Sir Charles? Lady Wray?" He spoke quietly, but with wild pulsing oftemples, exultant fierce throbbing of heart; he held her from all theworld. 

"They?" She was silent a moment; then looked up with a touch of her old, bright imperiousness. "My uncle loves me, has never denied me anything, and he will not in this--that is, if I tell him--"

"What?"

Did her lips answer; or was it only in her wilful, smiling eyes that heread what he sought?

"Jocelyn!"

Above the little bird, with a red spot on its breast, bent its bead-likeeyes on them; but neither saw, noticed. Besides, it was only a successorto the bird that had once been hers; that had flown like a flashingjewel from her soul to his, in that place, seawashed, remote from theworld.