ill have the winding up of my
estate, and it won't affect your share."

There was a vein of misanthropic irony in most of what Anthony Thurston
said, but the other man had the same blood in him, and answered quickly:

"My own business is flourishing, and I have tried to serve you hitherto
because of the relationship. I have no other reason, sir."

"No," assented Thurston, with something approaching a laugh. "There is
no doubt you are genuine. Millicent took after her father and, in
spite of it, I was fond of her. Tell me again. Did you consider her
happy when you saw her in Canada?"

"As I said before, it is a delicate question, but I did not think so.
Her husband struck me as a particularly poor sample, sir."

"Ah! She married the rascal suddenly out of pique, perhaps, when
Geoffrey left her. I could never quite get at the truth of that story,
which, of course, was framed in the conventional way, but even now,
though he's nearer of kin than Millicent, I can't quite forgive
Geoffrey. You saw him, you said, on your last visit to those mines."

The speaker's tone was indifferent, but his eyes shoved keen interest,
and Halliday answered:

"If ever the whole truth came out I don't think you would blame
Geoffrey, sir. Individually, I would take his word against--well,
against any woman's solemn declaration. Yes, I saw him. He was making
a pretty fight single-handed against almost overwhelming natural
difficulties."

"Why?" asked Anthony Thurston. "A woman out there, eh? Are you
pleading his cause, Halliday? Remember, if you convince me, he may be
another participant in the property."

"He did not explain all his motives to me, and nobody ever gained much
by attempting to force a Thurston's confidence. If you were not my
kinsman and were in better health I should feel tempted to recommend
you to place your affairs in other hands. Confound the property!"

There was a curious cackle in the sick man's throat, and the flicker of
a smile in his sunken eyes.

"I can believe it. You are tarred with the same brush as Geoffrey.
The obstinate fool must go out there with a couple of hundred pounds or
so, when he knew he had only to humor me by marrying Millicent and wait
for prosperity. And yet, in one way, I'm glad he did. He never wrote
me to apologize or explain--still, that's hardly surprising either. I
don't know that any of us ever troubled much about other folks'
opinions or listened to advice. H