r faith nor hope."

For a few minutes they walked in silence. Then Ricordo said:

"And was he the kind of man, Mr. Winfield, who, according to your
thoughts, would commit suicide?"

"There can be no doubt about it. It is true the body was unrecognisable,
but there were letters found on him by which he could be identified.
Neither coroner nor jury had any doubts about it."

"Was he a weak, incapable man--a man without resource?"

"Great heavens, no! He was a man who could do anything. Had he known
what was good for him, I believe he might have been Prime Minister."

"A man of weak will, eh?"

"No; rather a man of iron will, when he made up his mind."

"And he had vowed to marry this Miss Castlemaine?"

"Yes."

"And was he the kind of man to give up so easily?"

"I do not think you quite realise the circumstances."

"I am trying to realise the man."

"Yes; but the letters found on the body."

Ricordo laughed quietly.

"Did you say the body was identified? Was it recognisable?"

"No."

"Ah!"

"I was with him when he had given up all hope of ever winning Miss
Castlemaine," said Winfield. "He was in a state of utter despair."

"A weak man might have committed suicide; but a strong man, who had made
a vow like that--never!"

"You do not believe that Radford Leicester committed suicide?"

"I mean that such a man as you have described would rise again, even
although he died."

Winfield shook his head, and sighed.

"You do not believe it?"

"I knew Leicester. I saw the state he was in. He was not a happy man
before he met Miss Castlemaine, then--well, she became everything to
him. Afterwards, when he had by his own act made everything impossible,
what was left for him? He would say, 'Let me die, and have done with
it.'"

Again Ricordo laughed quietly.

"Were this Sprague and Purvis friends of his?" he asked presently.

"No. He did not like either of them, and he vowed that if either of them
ever breathed to Miss Castlemaine anything about the wager, he would be
revenged on them."

"And was he the kind of man to leave that vow unfulfilled?"

"I believe he was in such a state of despair that he was tired of life,"
said Winfield.

"Then you believe that this Radford Leicester is dead?"

"Yes, I believe he is."

They were walking along a ravine. On either side of them rose steep,
precipitous cliffs. At their feet a moorland stream gurgled its way to
the River Linden.

"Winfield," said the