lth been a subterfuge? Had Kate
Gilbert gone to Honduras to watch him? If she had, what was the reason
for it?

"It's enough to make a man a maniac," Prale mused. "And that Shepley
man! He was all right when we parted on the ship. Somebody said
something to him about me after he landed. He treated me as if I had
been a skunk."

Then he thought of George Lerton, his cousin. He couldn't quite make up
his mind about Lerton. The man seemed frenzied in his eagerness to get
Prale to leave New York. And Prale knew that it was not because of an
overwhelming love George Lerton had for him, not anxiety lest ill
fortune should come to Sidney Prale.

He would have to think it out, he told himself. At least, he knew that
he had foes working against him, and could be on guard continually. Down
in Honduras he had won a reputation as a fighter, and a fight was a
fight in any clime, he knew; there might be a difference in the rules
here and there, but the same qualities decided the winner.

He continued walking down the street toward the river. In Honduras he
had become accustomed to walking up and down the beach and looking at
the water whenever he wanted to think and solve some problem, and it
probably was habit that sent him to the water front now.

He tossed away the butt of his cigar and did not light another at the
moment. For a time he stood looking out at the black water, at the craft
plying back and forth, their lights flashing. He stepped upon a little
dock and started walking its length. After a time he came near the end
of it without having encountered a watchman, and sat down on a box in a
dark, secluded corner.

There, his back braced against the building and the building shielding
him from the cold wind that came up from the distant sea, Sidney Prale
sat and tried to think it out.

One thing made a comfortable thought--he had money with which to fight.
Either he was the victim of some injustice, or a grave mistake was being
made. He wished that he had forced George Lerton to tell him more, and
he decided that he would do so if they met again. He might even hunt him
out and force him to speak. Sidney Prale thought nothing of handling a
man like Lerton.

He heard steps on the dock and remained silent in the darkness, thinking
that possibly some watchman was making the rounds. If he was discovered,
he would say that he had been looking at the river, give the watchman
his card and a tip, and leave.

The steps came