g lights and
shadows of life, to sit, like grey-haired Saturn, "quiet as a stone."
Perhaps he had some unknown ulterior ambition on which he was brooding
through the years. I had read of such cases, though I confess I always
suspect the biographer of a picturesque imagination. He sees too
clearly. He is wise after the event. It seems that the roots of a man's
virtue are hidden, after all.

We had not long to wait when we reached the station. The long, black,
heavy train rolled in and we climbed into a Pullman. A broad, red face,
with upstanding Irish hair above it, was thrust through a pair of lower
berth curtains. Mr. Larkin was known to me slightly as a "live-wire." I
explained why I had come to the opposite berth which was reserved. While
my friend was settling with the conductor, I took the opportunity to
sound Mr. Larkin, who was offering me a cigar. He nodded vigorously.

"Sure. It's that whats-his-name guy--Frank Lord he calls himself. I've
been covering all that flyin' dope in England since 'way back, and I
knew Lord Cholme had some stunt coming. Ah, that's it--Carville. Yep.
His stage name's Lord. No, he can't come all the way at one lap. You
must be crazy. He'd want a ship load of gasoline. We had it all planned
years ago. North or south he must go. Barometer's been steady now all
over the Atlantic, so he's gone south--Madeira, Azores, Barbados and so
on. Hits America in Florida maybe, where it's easy landin' among all
them bayous and swamps. Oh we'll get him all right, don't you worry."

"And where do you stop?" I asked.

"Rocky Mount, if we get no news beforehand."

I got out, and the train moved off on the ninety-mile spin to
Philadelphia. I wondered if I had displayed a genuine sporting interest.
I was very tired, and the four-mile journey in the trolley-car was
tedious. As I passed the dark house next door, Mrs. Carville's voice
came back to me as she caught the meaning of my words that evening. I
had said it was easy to love without responsibility, and she had
answered with an eagerness of assent that I could not forget. I had at
times experienced the evanescent and perilous temptations of that love
that needs no understanding, the love that lights no torch, and is but a
vagrom fancy crossing the beaten tracks of life ... for an instant I
stood, with the key in my hand, and pondered the next house and the
sombre secret of which it was the symbol. On the horizon the great light
on the Metropolitan To