sort again, it might be that----"

But Leicester did not allow him to finish the sentence. He rose to his
feet in his passion.

"Promise you!" he cried, "Promise _you_!" He laughed bitterly, and
scornfully. Then he sat down again, ashamed of himself for having
allowed a man like Sprague to anger him so. "You mistake yourself," he
said. "A gentleman does not argue with a cabman, or invite his laundress
to dinner. You are presuming too far." He hesitated again for a second.
"No," he went on, "I shall not promise anything, nor profess anything. I
simply tell you that no word of this affair must pass your lips."

Sprague, stung by Leicester's words, was about to retort angrily.

"No, no, wait a minute," said Leicester, who now spoke very quietly.
"Look at me for a moment--that's it. Now, you know me. You know that I
am not tied down to claptrap morality. And you know this, too, when I
say a thing I'll do it, ay, even if I have to swing for it. I'll do it.
Whatever part I play elsewhere, I'm not playing a part now. I am in
deadly earnest, and the devil always helps the man who is faithful to
him. Well, I say this: if either of you breathe one word concerning that
compact of ours--one word, mark you, especially to Miss
Castlemaine--then no leper on a leper island shall suffer what you shall
suffer, no victim of the Inquisition invented by your religious teachers
has ever gone through the torments which you shall go through; no hell
that was ever invented shall be as ghastly as the hell I will drag you
through."

"You mean she would throw you over if she knew."

"No matter what I mean; but remember this, I am a man of my word, and I
am in earnest about this. Winfield I know is safe, he is a gentleman,
and he's not a rejected lover; but you others--well, I have said my
say."

He left the club as he spoke, while the three men looked at each other
wonderingly.

For some time after this nothing happened to disturb the serenity of
Leicester's life. Little by little he was mastering the drink craving,
while his outlook on life made him more and more cheerful. Olive
Castlemaine had indeed wrought a wondrous change. When he was in her
presence, at all events, the old Leicester was gone, and a new and
happier man had taken his place. It is true Olive was not demonstrative
in her affection towards him, but he was content, and as the wedding-day
drew near it seemed to him that his happiness could not continue. The
sky of his l