he colonel's den, where they talked in whispers. All agreed
that the ladies and the older men must be sent home as soon as possible,
and in complete ignorance of what had occurred. If Willits lived--of
which there was little hope--his home would be at the colonel's until
he fully recovered, the colonel having declared that neither expense nor
care would be spared to hasten his recovery. If he died, the body would
be sent to his father's house later on.

With this object in view the dance was adroitly shortened, the supper
hurried through, and within an hour after midnight the last carriage and
carryall of those kept in ignorance of the duel had departed, the only
change in the programme being the non-opening of the rare old bottle
of Madeira and the announcement of Harry's and Kate's engagement--an
omission which provoked little comment, as it had been known to but few.

Kate remained. She had tottered upstairs holding on to the hand-rail
and had thrown herself on a bed in the room leading out of the
dressing-room, where she lay in her mud-stained dress, the silken
petticoat torn and bedraggled in her leap from the window. She was
weeping bitterly, her old black mammy sitting beside her trying to
comfort her as best she could.

With the departure of the last guest--Mr. Seymour among them; the
colonel doing the honors; standing bare-headed on the porch, his face
all smiles as he bade them good-by--the head of the house of Rutter
turned quickly on his heel, passed down the corridor, made his way along
the long narrow hall, and entered his office, where the wounded man lay.
Harry, the negro woman, and Dr. Teackle alone were with him.

"Is there any change?" he asked in a perfectly even voice. Every vestige
of the set smile of the host had left his face. Harry he did not even
notice.

"Not much--he is still alive," replied the doctor.

"Have you found the ball?"

"No--I have not looked for it--I will presently."

The colonel moved out a chair and sat down beside the dying man, his
eyes fixed on the lifeless face. Some wave of feeling must have swept
through him, for after a half-stifled sigh, he said in a low voice, as
if to himself:

"This will be a fine story to tell his father, won't it?--and here
too--under my roof. My God!--was there ever anything more disgraceful!"
He paused for a moment, his eyes still on the sufferer, and then went
on--this time to the doctor--"His living so long gives me some hope--am
I