ated. The grin
had left his face and a look of dread had replaced it. Then he moved
on, forgetful of all but his moral and physical fear of the commanding
figure of enraged manhood that seemed to tower over him. He even
forgot the weapon which lay concealed in his pocket. He slunk on out
of the door amidst a profound silence, out into the soft twilight of
the valley.

The door stood open; the window stood open. Iredale looked after him.
He watched the tall, drooping figure; then, as Hervey passed from
view, Iredale turned back and flung himself into his chair, and his
laugh sounded through the stillness of the room.

But there was no mirth in that laugh. It was like the hysterical laugh
of a man whose nerves are strained to breaking tension.

He knew he had made a terrible mistake. His rage had placed a deadly
weapon in his enemy's hands. He had practically admitted his
authorship of the notice in the Winnipeg paper. What would be the
result? he asked himself. Again that strained laugh sounded through
the room.

As Hervey rode away from the valley his fear of George Iredale fell
from him as might a cloak. His face wore full expression of the evil
in his heart.

He, too, laughed; but his laugh was an expression of triumph.

"You're less clever than I thought, George Iredale," he muttered.
"You would have done better to have bought my silence. Now I can sell
my discovery elsewhere. Money I want, and money I mean to have."

But he spurred his horse on as an anxious thought came to him.

CHAPTER XIV

A STAB IN THE DARK

Mrs. Malling fumbled her glasses out of her pocket and adjusted them
on her nose. She had paused in her work to receive her letters, which
had just been brought from Lakeville. The girls stood by waiting to
learn the news.

The summer kitchen was stifling hot. The great cook-stove, throwing
off a fearful heat, helped to heighten the brilliancy of the
farm-wife's complexion, and brought beads of perspiration out upon her
forehead. Prudence and Alice looked cool beside "Mother Hephzy," but
then they were never allowed to do any work in the kitchen. Mrs.
Malling loved her kitchen better than any part of the house. She had
always reigned supreme there, and as long as she could work such would
always be the case.

Now she was preparing the midday meal for the threshing gang which was
at work in the fields. Great blocked-tin canteens stood about upon the
floor waiting to receive the hot fo