away in a
locked drawer within easy reach of his hand.

Suddenly he sat upright. The lines of his face hardened; a cold
moisture broke out upon his forehead; and the desperate look in his
eyes was an ill thing to see. Yet his movements had a strange
mechanical deliberation, as he opened the drawer, found the box, helped
himself from its contents, and, locking it up again, leaned back with
the long exhausted sigh of a man released from tension.

For several minutes he sat thus, arms folded, eyes closed; yielding
himself to the luxury of relief that stole over him, while the great
magician plucked the pain from throbbing nerves, unravelled the tangle
of thought and feeling, soothed brain and body like the touch of a
woman's hand.

But relief, as always, brought revulsion; this time sooner than usual;
because for many days he had held his own against the evil thing, and
had almost begun to believe himself on the upward grade.

"Damnation!" he broke out fiercely, and, the key being still in his
hand, flung it haphazard right across the room. It fell between a
heavy bookcase and the wall; and with a savage laugh of satisfaction,
he took up his pen, and began to write rapidly, without pausing to
select words or phrases. He tore it all up next morning, but for the
time being it served to distract his thoughts.

Presently he heard Quita's voice at the door.

"Eldred, aren't you coming to tea?"

"No," he answered, without looking round.

"Shall I bring you some, then?"

"No, thank you."

He turned his head just in time to catch sight of her as she closed the
door; then went on writing with less regard than ever for the matter in
hand.

In less than half an hour, Richardson's uneven footstep, betraying the
slight limp, sounded without. He paused so long on the other side of
the door, that Lenox's brows went up in surprise.

"That you, Dick?" he called out. "Come along in."

Richardson obeyed; and Lenox removed three or four books from an
adjacent chair.

"Sit down, old chap. You've not been in here often enough lately.
Chained to my wife's easel, eh?"

"Partly . . . yes," the other answered, absently fingering some loose
sheets of manuscript and ignoring the proffered chair.

"Wasn't sure, either, if you cared about being interrupted. I came in
now to say I thought of dining at mess to-night, and clearing out into
my own bungalow to-morrow. You've been uncommonly good to me, you and
Mrs Lenox. But