de over all the terrible miles to Siberia, and through her
he escaped,--and of the horrors of those years she never would speak,
even to her daughter. It's not to be wondered at that her mind is
astray. It's only a wonder that she is for the most part so calm."

"Well, the grave holds many a mystery, and what a fascination a
mystery has for humanity, savage or civilized! I've kept the Indians
at bay all this time by that means. They fear--they know not what, and
the mystery holds them. Now, for ourselves, I leave you for a little
while in charge of--the women--and of all my possessions." Larry,
gazing into the blazing logs, smiled. "You may not think so much of
them, but it's not so little now. Talk about lunacy--man, I
understand it. I've been a lunatic--for--ever since I made a find here
in this mountain."

He paused and mused a while, and Harry's thoughts dwelt for the time
on his own find in the wing of the cabin, where the firewood was
stored. The ring and the chest--he had not forgotten them, but by no
means would he mention them.

"You may wonder why I should tell you this, but when I'm through,
you'll know. It all came about because of a woman." Larry Kildene cast a
sidelong glance at Harry, and the glance was keen and saw more than the
younger man dreamed. "It's more often so than any other way--almost always
because of a woman. Her name may be anything--Mary--Elizabeth,--but, a
woman. This one's name was Katherine. Not like the Katherine of
Shakespeare, but the sweetest--the tenderest mother-woman the Lord ever
gave to man. I see her there in the fire. I've seen her there these many
years. Well, she was twin sister to the man who hated me. He hated
me--for why, I don't know--perhaps because he never could influence
me. He would make all who cared for him bow before his will.

"When I first saw her, she lived in his home. He was a banker of
means,--not wholly of his own getting, but partly so. His father was a
man of thrift and saving--anyway, he came to set too much store by
money. Sometimes I think he might have been jealous of me because I
had the Oxford training, and wished me to feel that wealth was a
greater thing to have. Scotchmen think more of education than we of
Ireland. It's a good thing, of course, but I'd never have looked down
on him because he went lacking it. But for some indiscretion maybe I
would have had money, too. It was spent too lavishly on me in my
youth. But no. I had none--only th