ng the man before him. There was quite a
silence.

"Well, Henry?" he said after a few moments.

"Anton," murmured Stanton in a low tone as if ashamed to speak. Von
Barwig's eyes glittered as he heard his name familiarly pronounced by
the man he was regarding with deadly enmity.

"The world has revolved a few times since I last saw you--but I am
here," he said, repressing his anger; and this repression gave a
curiously hard and guttural effect to his voice.

"I have been expecting this moment for a long time," said Stanton in a
conciliating tone. "I've tried to forget."

"You have been very successful," replied Von Barwig. "You have
forgotten your own name for sixteen years. A prosperous friend has a
poor memory, Henry."

"I have not prospered," said Stanton quickly; "that is, not in the real
sense of the word. I am rich, yes; but I am not prosperous."

"You have changed your name?" said Von Barwig.

"Yes; my uncle Stanton died in California. I took his name when he
left me his great fortune."

"That is why I could not find a trace of you," said Von Barwig
thoughtfully.

Stanton thought he detected signs of relenting in Von Barwig's voice.

"I suppose there's no use my telling you how sorry I am for----"

"Sorry, sorry!" almost screamed Von Barwig. "Does that bring back
anything? Does that put sixteen years in my hands? Damn the empty
phrase 'I am sorry' when there is no use in being sorry!"

"I have repented, Anton! Before God I have repented!" said Stanton
huskily. "She made me repent, and God knows she repented. She never
had one happy hour since she left you!"

Von Barwig was silent.

"This is the only blot on my life--the one blot on my life," cried
Stanton.

"And that one blot was my wife and child," said Von Barwig. "While you
were at it you accomplished a great deal. Mein Gott, you were
colossal! You always were a damned successful fellow, Ahlmann," he
added vindictively.

"Before God, Anton," cried Stanton with a show of emotion, "I didn't
mean to do it; I swear I didn't. It was a mad impulse! It's not in my
real nature."

"Nature never makes a blunder. When she makes a scoundrel she means
it," said Von Barwig.

Stanton started and then looked through the library window. His sharp
ear had detected the sound of carriage wheels stopping in front of the
house.

"What are you going to do?" he asked quickly. The fear of exposure was
doubly increased by knowledge of the