half brown, half white, his face
held something that fixed the attention and fascinated the eye that
encountered it. Did it lie in his eyes? How could it, with one looking
like a fixed stone of agate and the other like a rolling ball of fire?
Was it in his smile? How could it be when his smile had no joy in it,
only a satisfaction that was not of good, but evil, and promised trouble
rather than relief or sympathy? It must be in the general expression of
his features, which seemed made only to mirror the emotions of a soul
full of vitality and purpose--a soul which, if clouded by wrongs and
embittered by heavy memories, possessed at least the characteristic of
force and the charm of an unswerving purpose.

He seemed to recognize the impression he had made, for his lips smiled
with a sort of scornful triumph before he said:

"These are peculiar words for a stranger. May I ask your name and whose
interests you represent?"

His speech was quick, and had an odd halt in it, such as might be
expected from one who had not conferred with his fellows for years. But
there was no rudeness in its tone, nor was there any mistaking the fact
that he was, both by nature and education, a gentleman. I began to take
an interest in him apart from my mission.

"Mr. Felt," I replied, "my name is Tamworth. I am from Virginia, and
only by chance have I become involved in a matter near to you and the
man who, you tell me, is, or was, your enemy. As for the interests I
represent, they are those of justice, and justice only; and it is in her
behalf and for the triumph of law and righteousness that I now ask you
for your confidence and such details concerning your early intercourse
with Edwin Urquhart as will enable me to understand a past that will
certainly yield us a clew to the present. Are you willing to give them?"

"Will I give them?" he laughed. "Will I break the seal which guards the
tablets of my youth, and let a stranger's eyes read lines to which I
have shut my own for these many years! Do you not know that for me to
tell you what I once knew of Edwin Urquhart is to bare my own breast to
view, and subject to new sufferings a heart that it has taken fifteen
years of solitude to render callous?"

I gave no answer to this, only looked at him and stood waiting.

"You have hunted me out, you have touched the last string that ceases to
vibrate in a man's breast--that of a wild desire for vengeance--and now
you ask me--"

"To ease yo