ed him, he knew he must follow unrelentingly.

Masquerading as her husband, he had involved himself in--Heaven alone
knew what--but certainly in all her affairs, even to the murder itself,
since he was alleged to have married her prior to John Hardy's death,
and was now supposed to benefit, in all probability, by some will that
Hardy had executed.

The recent developments disturbed him incessantly. He almost wished he
had never heard of Mr. Wicks, who had come to his office with
employment. And yet, with Dorothy entangled as she was in all this
business, it was better by far that he should know the worst, as well
as the best, that there was to be discovered.

He wondered if the whole affair might be charged with insidious
fatalities--either for himself or Dorothy. He was groping in the
dark--and the only light was that which shone in Dorothy's eyes; there
was nothing else to guide him. He could not believe it was a baneful
light, luring him on to destruction--and yet--and yet----

His gaze wandered out at the window on a scene of Nature's loveliness.
The bright June day was perfect. In their new, vivid greens, the
fields and the trees were enchanting. How he wished that he and
Dorothy might wander across the hills and meadows together!

A sweet, lawless wildness possessed his rebellious nature. His mind
could reason, but his heart would not, despite all his efforts at
control.

Thus the time passed until New York was reached.

Unobserved, the man who had shadowed Garrison so faithfully left the
train at the Harlem station, to take the One Hundred and Twenty-fifth
Street crosstown car, in his haste to get to Ninety-third Street, where
the Robinsons were waiting.

Garrison went on to the Grand Central, carried his suit-case to his
room, freshened his dress with new linen, and then, going forth,
lunched at a corner cafe, purchased another bunch of roses, and
proceeded on to Dorothy's.

It was a quarter of two when he rang the bell. He waited only the
briefest time. The door was opened, and there stood young Robinson,
smiling.

"Why, how do you do, Cousin Jerold?" he said, cordially extending his
hand. "Come right in. I'm delighted to see you."

Garrison had expected any reception but this. He felt his old dislike
of the Robinsons return at once. There was nothing to do, however, but
to enter.

"Is Dorothy----" he started.

"Won't you go right up?" interrupted Theodore. "I believe you are not