oman had a husband, you say?" he asked presently.

Bond Saxon stared straight at him and slowly nodded his head.

"What became of him? Do you know?" Vincent questioned.

Saxon leaned forward, and, clutching Vincent Burgess by the arm,
whispered hoarsely, "He's dead. I killed him. But I was drunk when I did
it. And this man knows it and holds me bound."

SERVICE

_If you were born to honor, show
it now;
if put upon you, make the judgment
good that thought you
worthy of it_.
--SHAKESPEARE

CHAPTER XI. THE SINS OF THE FATHERS

_They enslave their children's children who make
compromise with sin_.
--LOWELL

IT was mid-December before Lloyd Fenneben saw Lagonda Ledge again. In
the murderous attempt upon his life, he had been hurled, head-downward,
upon the hidden rock-ledge with such force that even his strong nervous
system could barely overcome the shock. Hours of unconsciousness were
followed by a raging brain fever, and paralysis, insanity, and death
strove together against him. His final complete recovery was slow, and
he was wise enough to let nature have ample time for rebuilding what
had been so cruelly wrenched out of line. It was this very patience
and willingness to take life calmly, when most men would have been in a
fever of anxiety about neglected business, that brought Lloyd Fenneben
back to Lagonda Ledge in December, a perfectly well man; and aside from
the holiday given in honor of the event, aside from the display of
flags and the big "Welcome" done in electric lights awaiting him at the
railroad station, where all the portable population of Lagonda Ledge and
most of the Walnut Valley, headed by the Sunrise contingent, en masse,
seemed to be waiting also--aside from the demonstration and general
hilarity and thanksgiving and rejoicing, there seemed no difference
between the Dean of the days that followed and the Dean of the years
before. His black hair was as long and heavy as ever. His black eyes had
lost nothing of their keenness. His smile was just the same old, genial
outbreak of good will, as he heard the wildly enthusiastic refrain:

Rah for Funnybone!
Rah for Funnybone!
Rah for Funnybone!
_Rah!_ RAH!! RAH!!!

It was twilight when the train pulled up to the station. The December
evening was clear and crisp as southern Kansas Decembers usually are.
The lights of the town were twinkling in the dusk. Out beyo