h to get a change of air. The atmosphere's heavy here with
inquisitive people who call themselves your friends. See here, Ches,
you're not looking well. You need rest and sleep. Go home and go to
bed."

"You're always telling me to go home and go to bed. Not till I see which
train you take," panted Chester, his eyes sparkling. "Ha! Going to turn
in at Number Four gate, are you? Sorry I can't take your bag inside.
Well, possibly I can guess your destination. Got your section clear
through to South Carolina? I say, keep your head, old man, keep your
head!"

Burns turned about, shook his fist at Arthur Chester, seized his bag,
rushed through the gateway and boarded the last of the long string of
Pullmans. On the platform he pulled off his hat and waved it at his
friend. He could forgive anybody for anything tonight.

CHAPTER XIII. IN WHICH HE MAKES NO EVENING CALL

Burns opened the white gate--it was sagging a little on its hinges--and
walked up the moss-grown path between the rows of liveoaks to the
tall-columned portico of the still stately, if somewhat timeworn and
decayed, mansion among the shrubbery. It was just at dusk, and far away
somewhere a whippoorwill was calling. It was the only sound on the quiet
air.

The door was opened by an old negro servant, who hesitated over his
answer to the question put by this unknown person looming up before him
with his arm in a sling. Mrs. Elmore was in, but she was not well and
could not see any visitors this evening.

"Is Mrs. Lessing in?"

"Yas, Sah, she is. But she done tole me she couldn't see nobody herse'f.
She tekkin' cah ob Miss Lucy."

Burns produced his card and made a persuasive request. The old darky
led the way to a long, nearly dark apartment, where the scent of roses
mingled with the peculiar odour of old mahogany and ancient rugs and
hangings. The servant lit a tall, antique lamp with crystal pendants
hanging from its shade, the light from which fell upon a bowlful of
crimson roses so that they glowed richly. He left Burns, departing
with a shufing step and an air of grudging the strange gentleman the
occupancy of the room, although it was to be for only so long as it
would take to bring back word that neither of the ladies would see him
to-night.

Burns sat still for the space of two minutes then, as no further sound
could be heard in the quiet house, he became restless. His pulses beat
rather heavily and, to quiet them or the sense of them,