usband stand toward the injured man?"

"That is the worst part of the story. They had had high words only
that very day. Philip had been acquainted with Percy at school, and he
knew so much that was not in his favor, that he was unable to conceal
his real opinion of the man at all times. One day high words arose,
and Philip uttered a threat, which was misconstrued, after the attack
upon Percy. They said he threatened his life. But Percy knew that only
his honor was meant. Davlin knew this, too; must have known it, for he
was aware that the two had met before they came together with the
party."

"I can not see why Lucian Davlin should be your husband's enemy."

"I can understand that he hated Philip for the same reason that a
thief hates the light, and Philip had balked his plans."

"True; and yet--"

"And yet?" inquiringly.

"Bad as the man is, I can see but one motive that could induce even
him to swear away the liberty, almost the life, of a man who never
wronged him."

"Still, he did it," said Olive, with a weary sigh.

"True; and he did it for a motive."

"And that motive--"

"Was the strongest instinct of the human race."

"What?" eagerly.

"Self-preservation."

Olive started up with a half cry. "Madeline, in heaven's name, _what_
do you mean!"

"That Lucian Davlin threw suspicion upon the innocent to screen the
guilty," said the girl, in a low, firm tone.

"And the guilty one, then?"

"Himself. Do you think him too good for it?" sneeringly.

"No, no! oh, no! But this I had never thought of--yet it may be true."

She fell into deep thought; after a time she started up. "I must
consult a detective immediately," she said.

"You must do no such thing," cried Madeline, springing to her feet;
"why did not the detectives find this out before? Because they have
not my reasons for hunting that man down. _I_ found this clue, if it
be one. I claim it; it is my right, and I will have it. If he is to be
undone, it shall be by my hands. I swear it!"

They faced each other in silence.

Slowly Olive recalled to her countenance and voice its usual sweet
calm, and then seated herself and talked long and earnestly with
Madeline.

The little bronze clock on the mantel was on the stroke of two when
the conference ended, and Madeline retired to her own room, but not to
sleep. She sat and thought until the dawn shone in at her window.

One link was missing from the chain; no motive had been discovered for