have fancies upon the subject, and give voice to them sometimes;
but it is the man they choose and not the one they picture to whom you
must give your attention."

"I suppose that is true enough," said Pendleton.

"Miss Vale's evident strength awed you," went on the other. "And then
your timidity began to magnify her qualities. No woman is what she
seems to be to the man who loves her. Miss Vale is not so difficult to
please as you thought. I fancy that her engagement to young Morris
proves that."

"There you have it," cried Pendleton. "That's it, Kirk! I've stood
aside, considering myself unworthy, and allowed a fellow to slip by me
who is as colorless as water. Allan Morris is no more fit to be her
husband than--" at loss for a simile he halted for a moment, and then
burst out: "Oh, he's impossible!"

"So far as we have tested him, certainly," agreed Ashton-Kirk, "he has
shown no great strength of character."

"He's acted like a frightened child all through this affair. He's
mixed up in it, and through his weakness allowed Edyth to also
entangle herself. Again and again he's run to her, or called to her,
to tell her of some fresh complication that he'd gotten his frightened
self into; and to protect him, she has dared and done what would have
frightened an ordinary woman into fits."

"I think," observed Ashton-Kirk, "that she has realized his position,
to some extent, at least. The fact that he is weak has, I think,
dawned upon her already; she may also see his evident selfishness
before long. If she does--why, might there not still be some hope for
you, Pen?"

Pendleton shook his head in the gloom.

"I'm afraid not," said he, hopelessly. "Somehow a weak man makes a
great appeal to the woman who has grown to care for him. He arouses
her mother instinct. And Edyth is so strong that her pity--"

"May induce her to do her utmost to see him through this trouble,"
interrupted Ashton-Kirk. "But it may not carry her much further. When
once the thing is over, a reaction may set in. Who knows?"

But Pendleton refused to be comforted. For a long time they talked of
Edyth Vale, Morris, and the killing of Hume. Finally Pendleton said:

"I suppose we can't smoke here to-night, can we?"

"No; the lights might be seen; and we can't tell what sharp eyes are
watching the place."

Pendleton sighed drearily.

There were many clocks in the rooms; the policemen must have amused
themselves by winding and setting them; for