ave passed that I did not know whether he was still living. I can say
the same about young Mr. Lennox."

"Oh, they live hazardous lives, but when one is skilled in meeting
peril life is not snuffed out so easily," rejoined Mr. Hardy who
seemed to be speaking from some hidden motive. "They've returned to
civilization, and I think and trust, Adrian, that we'll hear more of
them than for some years past. They're especial friends of mine, and I
shall do the best I can for them, even though my mercantile rivalry
with you absorbs, of necessity, so much of my energy."

Van Zoon smiled sourly, and then Robert liked him less than ever.

"The times are full of danger," he said, "and one must watch to keep
his own."

He bowed, and turned to other acquaintances, evidently relieved at
parting with them.

"He does not improve with age," said Willet thoughtfully.

Robert was about to ask questions concerning this Adrian Van Zoon, who
seemed uneasy in their presence, but once more he restrained himself,
his intuition telling him as before that neither Willet nor Master
Hardy would answer them.

The play moved on towards its dramatic close and Robert was back in
the world of passion and tragedy, of fancy and poetry. Van Zoon was
forgotten, St. Luc faded quite away, and he was not conscious of the
presence of Tayoga, or of Grosvenor, or of any of his friends.
Shakespeare's _Richard_ was wholly the humpbacked villain to him, and
when he met his fate on Bosworth Field he rejoiced greatly. As the
curtain went down for the last time he saw that Tayoga, too, was
moved.

"The English king was a wicked man," he said, "but he died like a
great chief."

They all passed out now, the street was filled with carriages and the
torches of the link boys and there was a great hum of conversation.
St. Luc returned to Robert's mind, but he kept to himself the fact
that he had been in the theater. It might be his duty to state to the
military that he had seen in the city an important Frenchman who must
have come as a spy, but he could not do so. Nor did he feel any
pricklings of the conscience about it, because he believed, even if he
gave warning of St. Luc's presence, the wary chevalier would escape.

They stood at the edge of the sidewalk, watching the carriages, great
high-bodied vehicles, roll away. Mr. Hardy had a carriage of his own,
but the distance between his house and the theater was so short that
he had not thought it necessary to u