f escape; evaluated the silencing quality of the
deep library rug; then slipped through the door, closed it, and with
tread as soft as a bird's wing against the air started across the
room.

At Mrs. De Peyster's back curiosity checked him and he turned his
whimsical face down upon the motionless figure. The great Mrs. De
Peyster! He wondered what had thus changed her from the all-commanding
presence of a few moments since; for within that perfection of a study
he had overheard nothing. An instant he stood thus at her back, alert
to disappear upon the warning of a changing breath--the two but an
arm's reach apart, and apparently about to go their separate ways
forever--she unconscious of him, and he equally unconscious of the
seed of a common drama which their own acts had already sown--with
never a thought that ships that pass in the night may possibly alter
their courses and meet again in the morning.

He slipped on out of the room, closing the door without a sound. In
the hallway he paused. He wished to see Miss Gardner again, ignorant
of the sudden fate that had befallen her. But he decided little would
be gained by trying for another meeting. Certainly she must have
relented sufficiently to have picked up the card he had given her; and
perhaps she would change her mind and send him a message in care of
the Reverend Mr. Pyecroft. Anyhow, that was his best hope.

Lightly, and with a light heart--for the presence of danger was to him
a stimulant--he went down the stairs, eyes and ears on guard against
unfortunate rencontres, and eyes also instinctively noting doors and
passages and articles worth a gentleman's while. At the front door he
waited a moment until the sidewalk was empty; then he let himself out,
and went down Mrs. De Peyster's noble stone steps, his face pleasant
and frank-gazing, and with the easy self-possession of departing from
a call to wish a friend _bon-voyage_.

CHAPTER V

THE HONOR OF THE NAME

After a time Mrs. De Peyster rose totteringly from the sheeted library
chair, mounted weakly to the more intimate asylum of her private
sitting-room, and sat down and stared into her fire. She was still
dazed by Judge Harvey's announcement of the decision of the New York
and New England to pay no dividends.

She was not rich, as the rich count riches. Nor did she desire a
greater wealth; at least not much greater. In fact, she looked down
upon the possessors of those huge fortunes acquired d