began to rearrange the chessmen.

Proceeding much as he had already done, he followed the movements of
the pieces with short explanations, and when he finally swept them up
into a heap looked hard at his companion.

"I think you ought to be convinced," he said.

"It all turns upon the bugler's movements," Challoner remarked.

"And he was killed. Mrs. Chudleigh's account presupposes that he was
in one place, Clarke's in another, while I've tried to show you that he
couldn't have been in either."

Challoner was silent for a time and Blake watched him anxiously until
he looked up.

"I think you have succeeded, Dick, though I feel that with a trifling
alteration here and there you could have cleared yourself. Now we'll
let the painful matter drop for good, unless, indeed, some fresh light
is ever thrown on it."

"That can't happen," Blake replied and added with a gleam of humour:
"As a matter of fact, I'd sooner remain in friendly obscurity."

Challoner rose and laid a hand on his arm. "If you were once at fault,
you have since shown yourself a man of honour. Though the thing hurt
me at the time, I'm glad you are my nephew. Had there been any
baseness in you, some suspicion must always have rested on your cousin.
Well, we are neither of us sentimentalists, but I must say that you
have amply made amends."

He turned away and Blake went out into the open air to walk up and
down. The face of the old house rose above him, dark against the clear
night sky; in front the great oaks in the park rolled back in shadowy
masses. Blake, who loved Sandymere, had thought of it often in his
wanderings, and now he was glad that through his action his cousin
would enjoy it without reproach. After all, it was some return to make
for the favours he had received. For himself there remained the charm
of the lonely trail and the wide wilderness, unless, indeed, Harding
succeeded better than Blake really expected with his petroleum
exploitation scheme.

For all that, he had been badly tempted. Poverty and disgrace were
serious obstacles to marriage, and had he been free to do so, he would
eagerly have sought the hand of Millicent Graham. He knew now that he
loved her and it was hard to hold his longing for her in check, but
while this must be done for the present he did not altogether despair.
He was hopeful and believed that if she loved him, she would not shrink
from his painful story, while it was possible that another of