h
his only thought was of her.

Oh, merciful God! how horribly had his treacherous cousin betrayed that
sacred trust, because of his fatal resemblance to himself! He cried out
to God and the listening angels:

"Heaven help my beautiful darling and save her from the machinations of
that desperate villain!"

He knew that Clinton Kendale would stop at nothing to gain his end, and
his agony at the thought that he might be unable to prevent it in time
almost drove him to the verge of madness.

He felt that they would hold him there until they tortured from him
whatever secret he held which they wished to learn; then they would
deliberately make away with him. Clinton Kendale would step into his
place, personating himself so cleverly that the great world, under whose
very eyes the terrible tragedy had taken place, would never know the
difference. Even Faynie would not know how she had been tricked and
cheated, and the last thought almost drove him to the point of frenzy,
nearly succeeding in turning his tortured brain.

CHAPTER XIV.

"YOU ARE OUR PRISONER!"

For hours Lester Armstrong lay like one stunned, turning over and over
in his mind the awful revelation he had heard. That a human being,
especially his cousin, Clinton Kendale, should have plotted so horribly
against him seemed almost past believing. Then he remembered how
treacherous he had been in his early days, and he wondered that he had
been so mad as to have trusted him.

"Heaven save my darling from him!" he cried out in an agony too great
for words. To realize that she was in the mercy of such a man was a
sorrow so great that all else on earth paled before it. Then a mighty
resolve came to him--to foil the villainous plot, weak though he was; he
must make his escape and fly to his darling's aid.

He knew that Clinton Kendale would follow out his line of action,
keeping him there as long as it was necessary--that is, until he learned
all the secrets that he was so anxious to ascertain--then he would put
him out of the way with as little compunction as he would a dog. He
might expect little mercy at Kendale's hands, when two fortunes and a
beautiful young girl hung in the balance.

For hours he lay there, turning the matter over in his mind. He knew he
was terribly weak from the awful fall which he had received, and which
had hurt his head the second time in almost the same place; but escape
he must from the clutches of the conspirators, even