eaded.

"No," he assured her. "That's why--well, that's why I thought we might
arrange it."

"But I don't love you, Monte!" she exclaimed.

"Of course not."

"And you--you don't love me."

"That's it," he nodded eagerly.

"Yet you are asking me to marry you?"

"Just because of that," he said. "Don't you understand?"

She was trying hard to understand, because she had a great deal of
faith in Monte and because at this moment she needed him.

"I don't see why being engaged to a man you don't care about need
bother you at all," he ran on. "It's the caring that seems to make the
trouble--whether you 're engaged or not. I suppose that's what ails
Teddy."

She had been watching Monte's eyes; but she turned away for a second.

"Of course," he continued, "you can care--without caring too much.
Can't people care in just a friendly sort of way?"

"I should think so, Monte," she answered.

"Then why can't people become engaged--in just a friendly sort of way?"

"It would n't mean very much, would it?"

"Just enough," he said.

He held out his hand.

"Is it a bargain?"

She searched his eyes. They were clean and blue.

"It's so absurd, Monte!" she gasped.

"You can call me, to yourself, your secretary," he suggested.

"No--not that."

"Then," he said, "call me just a _camarade de voyage_."

Her eyes warmed a trifle.

"I'll keep on calling you just Monte," she whispered.

And she gave him her hand.

CHAPTER V

PISTOLS

Evidently young Hamilton did not hear Monte come down the stairs, for
he was sitting in a chair near the window, with his head in his hands,
and did not move even when Monte entered the room.

"Hello, Hamilton," said Covington.

Hamilton sprang to his feet--a shaking, ghastly remnant of a man. He
had grown thinner and paler than when Covington last saw him. But his
eyes--they held Covington for a moment. They burned in their hollow
sockets like two candles in a dark room.

"Covington!" gasped the man.

Then his eyes narrowed.

"What the devil you doing here?" he demanded.

"Sit down," suggested Monte. "I want to have a little talk with you."

It was physical weakness that forced Hamilton to obey.

Monte drew up a chair opposite him.

"Now," he said quietly, "tell me just what it is you want of Miss
Stockton."

"What business is that of yours?" demanded Hamilton nervously.

Monte was silent a moment. Here at the start was the question Marjory
had ant