him pass, had acted as if he expected to
be introduced. Theron, emerging into the hall, leaned against the wall
and looked dreamily at the priest, who had stepped out with him.

"I am very sorry to learn that you are in trouble, Mr. Ware," Father
Forbes said, gently enough, but in hurried tones. "Miss Madden is also
in trouble. I mentioned to you that her brother had got into a serious
scrape. I have brought my old friend, General Brady, to consult with
her about the matter. He knows all the parties concerned, and he can set
things right if anybody can."

"It's a mistake about me--I 'm not in any trouble at all," said Theron.
"I just dropped in to make a friendly call."

The priest glanced sharply at him, noting with a swift, informed
scrutiny how he sprawled against the wall, and what vacuity his eyes and
loosened lips expressed.

"Then you have a talent for the inopportune amounting to positive
genius," said Father Forbes, with a stormy smile.

"Tell me this, Father Forbes," the other demanded, with impulsive
suddenness, "is it true that you don't want me in your house again? Is
that the truth or not?"

"The truth is always relative, Mr. Ware," replied the priest, turning
away, and closing the door of the parlor behind him with a decisive
sound.

Left alone, Theron started to make his way downstairs. He found his
legs wavering under him and making zigzag movements of their own in a
bewildering fashion. He referred this at first, in an outburst of fresh
despair, to the effects of his great grief. Then, as he held tight to
the banister and governed his descent step by step, it occurred to him
that it must be the wine he had had for breakfast. Upon examination, he
was not so unhappy, after all.

CHAPTER XXXI

At the second peal of the door-bell, Brother Soulsby sat up in bed.
It was still pitch-dark, and the memory of the first ringing fluttered
musically in his awakening consciousness as a part of some dream he had
been having.

"Who the deuce can that be?" he mused aloud, in querulous resentment at
the interruption.

"Put your head out of the window, and ask," suggested his wife,
drowsily.

The bell-pull scraped violently in its socket, and a third outburst of
shrill reverberations clamored through the silent house.

"Whatever you do, I'd do it before he yanked the whole thing to pieces,"
added the wife, with more decision.

Brother Soulsby was wide awake now. He sprang to the floor, and, grop