perished in this dreadful storm the proud Diana Von Taer could not
escape the taint of murder. The end was not yet.

CHAPTER XXIII

THE CRISIS

Mershone and Fogerty plodded through the snow together, side by side.
They were facing the wind, which cut their faces cruelly, yet neither
seemed to mind the bitterness of the weather. "Keep watch along the
roadside," suggested Mershone; "she may have fallen anywhere, you know.
She couldn't endure this thing long. Poor Louise!"

"You were fond of her, Mr. Mershone?" asked Fogerty, not
unsympathetically.

"Yes. That was why I made such a struggle to get her."

"It was a mistake, sir. Provided a woman is won by force or trickery
she's never worth getting. If she doesn't care for you it's better to
give her up."

"I know--now."

"You're a bright fellow, Mershone, a clever fellow. It's a pity you
couldn't direct your talents the right way. They'll jug you for this."

"Never mind. The game of life isn't worth playing. I've done with it,
and the sooner I go to the devil the better. If only I could be sure
Louise was safe I'd toss every care--and every honest thought--to the
winds, from this moment."

During the silence that followed Fogerty was thoughtful. Indeed, his
mind dwelt more upon the defeated and desperate man beside him than upon
the waif he was searching for.

"What's been done, Mr. Mershone," he said, after a time, "can't be
helped now. The future of every man is always a bigger proposition than
his past--whoever he may be. With your talents and genius you could yet
make of yourself a successful and prosperous man, respected by the
community--if you could get out of this miserable rut that has helped
to drag you down."

"But I can't," said the other, despondently.

"You can if you try. But you'll have to strike for a place a good way
from New York. Go West, forget your past, and carve out an honest future
under a new name and among new associates. You're equal to it."

Mershone shook his head.

"You forget," he said. "They'll give me a jail sentence for this folly,
as sure as fate, and that will be the end of me."

"Not necessarily. See here, Mershone, it won't help any of those people
to prosecute you. If the girl escapes with her life no real harm has
been done, although you've caused a deal of unhappiness, in one way or
another. For my part, I'd like to see you escape, because I'm sure this
affair will be a warning to you that will induce