doorway.

Immediately after she had gone, a man came driving hard to bring Father
Bourassa to visit a dying Catholic in the prairie, and it was Finden who
accompanied Varley to the hospital, waited for him till his examination of
the "casual" was concluded, and met him outside.

"Can it be done?" he asked of Varley. "I'll take word to Father
Bourassa."

"It can be done--it will be done," answered Varley, absently. "I do not
understand the man. He has been in a different sphere of life. He tried to
hide it, but the speech--occasionally! I wonder."

"You wonder if he's worth saving?"

Varley shrugged his shoulders impatiently. "No; that's not what I meant."

Finden smiled to himself. "Is it a difficult case?" he asked.

"Critical and delicate; but it has been my specialty."

"One of the local doctors couldn't do it, I suppose?"

"They would be foolish to try."

"And you are going away at sunrise to-morrow?"

"Who told you that?" Varley's voice was abrupt, impatient.

"I heard you say so--everybody knows it.... That's a bad man yonder,
Varley." He jerked his thumb toward the hospital. "A terrible bad man,
he's been. A gentleman once, and fell down--fell down hard. He's done more
harm than most men. He's broken a woman's heart and spoiled her life, and,
if he lives, there's no chance for her, none at all. He killed a man, and
the law wants him; and she can't free herself without ruining him; and she
can't marry the man she loves because of that villain yonder, crying for
his life to be saved. By Josh and by Joan, but it's a shame, a dirty
shame, it is!"

Suddenly Varley turned and gripped his arm with fingers of steel.

"His name--his real name?"

"His name's Meydon--and a dirty shame it is, Varley."

Varley was white. He had been leading his horse and talking to Finden. He
mounted quickly now, and was about to ride away, but stopped short again.
"Who knows--who knows the truth?" he asked.

"Father Bourassa and me--no others," he answered. "I knew Meydon thirty
years ago."

There was a moment's hesitation, then Varley said, hoarsely, "Tell
me--tell me all."

When all was told, he turned his horse toward the wide waste of the
prairie, and galloped away. Finden watched him till he was lost to view
beyond the bluff.

"Now, a man like that, you can't guess what he'll do," he said,
reflectively. "He's a high-stepper, and there's no telling what
foolishness will get hold of him. It'd be safer if he got l