uts one in possession of all this," looking out upon
the soft, peaceful English landscape, hayfield and wooded hill,
slumbering in the gathering dusk. "As if there could be a greater curse
anyhow than being condemned to go through life that most pitiable
object--a pauper with sixteen quarterings. No--no!"

He tore open the envelope, and in the fading light ran rapidly over its
contents. Hazon had returned to Johannesburg, and had wound up all their
affairs, and each of them was in possession of more than a small
fortune. There was nothing, however, of the remorseful or the morbid
about the writer now, and, turning over the page, Laurence broke into a
short half laugh, for there followed the announcement of Holmes'
engagement to Mabel Falkner of the blue eyes, and the usual transports
and rhapsodies attendant upon such a communication. Skipping the bulk of
this, Laurence returned the missive to his pocket with another sneering
laugh.

"We shall hear no more about a 'curse' on our good fortune now, friend
Holmes," he said to himself, "for you are entering upon an institution
calculated to knock out all such Quixotic niceties. Ha, ha! I shouldn't
be in the least surprised if in a little while you didn't hanker to
start up-country again upon another 'ivory' trade."

But Holmes' letter had, as it were, let in a waft of the dark cloud of
the Past upon the fair and smiling peacefulness of the Present, and he
fell to thinking on what strange experiences had been his--of the
consistent and unswerving irony of life as he had known it. Every
conventionality violated--every rule of morality, each set aside, had
brought him nothing but good--had brought nothing but good to him and
his. Had he grovelled on in humdrum poverty-stricken respectability,
what would have befallen him--and them? For him the stereotyped
"temporary insanity" verdict of a coroner's jury--for them, well, Heaven
only knew. Whereas now?

At this stage an impulse moved him, and opening a locked cabinet he took
forth something, and as he examined it the associations of the thing,
and the fast darkening room, brought back the vision of glooming rock
walls and a perfectly defenceless man weighed down with horror and
dread.

"May I come in, father? But you are in the dark."

It was Fay's voice. He half started, so rapt was he in his meditations.

"That's soon remedied," he said, striking a light. "Yes, come in, little
one. You were asking about this thing once