Winfield. She
had it in her power to make me even a good man. But when--she did what
she did, she robbed me of everything--everything. I ceased to be a man;
I became a devil. But for her I should never have sunk to the depths I
have sunk to since. When she went out of my life, the devil entered me.
Man, if I were to tell you all I've gone through since--I saw you last,
you'd--but what's the use?"

For an hour more they talked, Winfield eagerly expostulating, and
pleading, the other answering coldly and cruelly, but never raising his
voice, or showing any signs of excitement.

"Then you are determined?" said Winfield at length.

"My friend, I never make a plan one day to give it up the next."

"Then you'll excuse me, I am sure."

"For what?"

"Nothing, only I am going back to London to-night. I cannot remain your
guest, knowing what I know."

Ricordo half lifted his fez, and bowed mockingly.

"I am honoured by your society, even for a few hours, Signor Winfield,"
he said. "It has been pleasant to talk about--old times, eh? I will
tell the estimable Mrs. Briggs at the farm, who wisely rules her
husband, to send back your luggage to the station. A busy editor--called
suddenly back, eh? Good-day, Signor Winfield."

The other stood undecided.

"I say, Leicester, old man, will nothing move you?"

"Nothing, my friend, nothing. I have only one thing to live for now, and
that I am going to have. It is a pleasant walk to the station, signore.
I hope you will enjoy it."

Winfield turned away with a heavy heart. Twice he stopped as if
undecided what to do, then, as if making a final resolution, he walked
rapidly towards the station. As for the other, he stood and watched him
until he was out of sight; but his face retained its relentless look, in
his eyes was the wild stare of a madman.

"Even if I loved her as much as I hate her, I would still do what I set
out to do," he said as Winfield passed out of sight.

That evening a servant at Vale Linden house announced that Signor
Ricordo had called to see Miss Castlemaine.

CHAPTER XXVII

RICORDO'S WOOING

Olive Castlemaine was alone when the servant brought her the message,
and for the first time since she had first met Ricordo, the news of his
presence was not welcome. She wanted to be alone to think. That
afternoon Herbert Briarfield had pleaded his cause once more, and she
had promised to give him her answer in two days. For the first time
since she h