se of fate
never disclosed. A man of easy ethics, but rigid artificialities of
honor, flattered and pampered by class prejudice, a so-called "man of
the world," with no experience beyond his own limited circle, yet brave
and devoted to that, it were well perhaps to leave this last act of his
inefficient life as it was accepted by the deputy.

Dismounting he approached the house from the garden. He was already
familiar with the low arched doorway which led to the business room, and
from which he could gain admittance to the patio, but it so chanced that
he entered the dark passage at the moment that Clarence had thrust Susy
into the business room, and heard its door shut sharply. For an instant
he believed that Mrs. Brant had taken refuge there, but as he cautiously
moved forward he heard her voice in the patio beyond. Its accents
struck him as pleading; an intense curiosity drew him further along the
passage. Suddenly her voice seemed to change to angry denunciation,
and the word "Liar" rang upon his ears. It was followed by his own name
uttered sardonically by Clarence, the swift rustle of a skirt, the clash
of the gate, and then--forgetting everything, he burst into the patio.

Clarence was just turning from the gate with the marks of his wife's
hand still red on his white cheek. He saw Captain Pinckney's eyes upon
it, and the faint, half-malicious, half-hysteric smile upon his lips.
But without a start or gesture of surprise he locked the gate, and
turning to him, said with frigid significance,--

"I thank you for returning so promptly, and for recognizing the only
thing I now require at your hand."

But Captain Pinckney had recovered his supercilious ease with the
significant demand.

"You seem to have had something already from another's hand, sir, but I
am at your service," he said lightly.

"You will consider that I have accepted it from you," said Clarence,
drawing closer to him with a rigid face. "I suppose it will not be
necessary for me to return it--to make you understand me."

"Go on," said Pinckney, flushing slightly. "Make your terms; I am
ready."

"But I'm not," said the unexpected voice of the deputy at the grille of
the gateway. "Excuse my interfering, gentlemen, but this sort o' thing
ain't down in my schedule. I've let this gentleman," pointing to Captain
Pinckney, "off for a minit to say 'good-by' to a lady, who I reckon has
just ridden off in her buggy with her servant without saying by yo