nced."

"You will find him very much changed. In fact, he is no longer the
same."

"No," said Jack, "he is no longer the friend I loved."

Ernest clutched for the wall. His face was contorted with intense agony.
Each word was like a nail driven into his flesh. Crucified upon the
cross of his own affection by the hand he loved, all white and trembling
he stood there. Tears rushed to his eyes, but he could not weep.
Dry-eyed he reached his room and threw himself upon his bed. Thus he
lay--uncomforted and alone.

XXVIII

Terrible as was his loneliness, a meeting with Jack would have been more
terrible. And, after all, it was true, a gulf had opened between them.

Ethel alone could bring solace to his soul. There was a great void in
his heart which only she could fill. He hungered for the touch of her
hand. He longed for her presence strongly, as a wanton lusts for
pleasure and as sad men crave death.

Noiselessly he stole to the door so as not to arouse the attention of
the other two men, whose every whisper pierced his heart like a dagger.
When he came to Ethel's home, he found that she had gone out for a
breath of air. The servant ushered him into the parlor, and there he
waited, waited, waited for her.

Greatly calmed by his walk, he turned the details of Clarke's
conversation over in his mind, and the conviction grew upon him that
the friend of his boyhood was not to blame for his course of action.
Reginald probably had encircled Jack's soul with his demoniacal
influence and singled him out for another victim. That must never be. It
was his turn to save now. He would warn his friend of the danger that
threatened him, even if his words should be spoken into the wind. For
Reginald, with an ingenuity almost satanic, had already suggested that
the delusion of former days had developed into a monomania, and any
attempt on his part to warn Jack would only seem to confirm this theory.
In that case only one way was left open. He must plead with Reginald
himself, confront at all risks that snatcher of souls. To-night he would
not fall asleep. He would keep his vigil. And if Reginald should
approach his room, if in some way he felt the direful presence, he must
speak out, threaten if need be, to save his friend from ruin. He had
fully determined upon this course when a cry of joy from Ethel, who had
just returned from her walk, interrupted his reverie. But her gladness
changed to anxiety when she saw how pale h