ely to
Lloyd Fenneben's door.

"We made it in before midnight, anyhow," he said carelessly.

Elinor looked up in surprise. The terrors of the night still possessed
her.

"What a horrible nightmare it has all been. The storm, the river, the
rocks, and the darkness, and that dreadful something behind us in the
cave. Was there really anything, or did we just imagine it all? It will
seem impossible when the daylight comes."

Victor looked at her with a wonderful light in his wide-open brown eyes.

"Yes," he said in a deep voice. "It will seem impossible when daylight
comes. But will it all be as a horrible nightmare?"

"No, no; not all." Elinor's face was winsomely sweet. "Not all," she
repeated. "It is fine to feel one's self so safeguarded as I have been.
I shall always remember you as one with whom I could never again be
afraid."

Burleigh turned hastily toward the door, and, having delivered her to
the care of her uncle, he bade them both good night.

Dr. Fenneben looked keenly after the young man striding away from the
light. His clothes were torn and bedraggled, his cap was gone, and his
heavy hair was a mass of rough waves about his forehead. The direct
gaze of his golden-brown eyes took away distrust, and yet the face had
changed somehow in this day. A hint of a new purpose had crept into it,
a purpose not possible for Dr. Fenneben to read.

But he did note the set of the head, the erect form and broad shoulders,
and the easy swinging step as the boy went whistling away into the
shadows of the night.

"A splendid animal, anyhow," the Dean thought. "Will the soul measure
up to that princely body? And what can be the purport of this maudlin
mouthing of old Bond Saxon? Bond is really a lovable man when he's
sober; but he's vindictive and ugly when he's drunk. I can wait for
developments. Whatever the boy's history may have been, like the courts,
it's my business to hold every man innocent till he's proven guilty;
to build up character, not to undermine and destroy it. And destruction
begins in suspicion."

CHAPTER VI. THE GAME

_Truly ye come of The Blood; slower to bless than
to ban;
Little used to lie down at the bidding of any man_.
--KIPLING

BITTER weather followed the night of the storm. Biting winds beat all
the autumn beauty from tree and shrub. Cold gray skies hung over a
cold gray land, and a heavy snowfall and a penetrating chill seemed to
destroy a