she was fond of the Colonel.

The evening passed pleasantly at Hazlehurst, for Mrs. Foster made a
charming hostess. Foster, who as a rule was indifferent to women's
society, livened the party by matching wits with Margaret Keith; and
Lieutenant Walters found Mrs. Keith's pretty companion very interesting.

At Sandymere, three miles away, Colonel Challoner sat in his library
with his guest. It was a large and simply furnished room, but there
was a tone of austere harmony in all its appointments. The dark oak
table, the rows of old books in faded leather bindings, the antique
lamps, and the straight-backed chairs were in keeping with the severe
lines of the somber panels and the heavy, square molding of the
ceiling. Three wax candles in an old silver holder stood on a small
table by the wide hearth, on which a cheerful wood fire burned, but
most of the room was shadowy.

The sense of empty space and gloom, however, had no effect on the two
elderly men who sat with a cigar box and decanter in front of them,
engaged in quiet, confidential talk. Challoner was white-haired,
straight, and spare, with aquiline features and piercing eyes;
Greythorpe broad-shouldered and big, with a heavy-jawed, thoughtful
face. They had been fast friends since their first meeting a number of
years ago, when Challoner was giving evidence before a parliamentary
commission.

"So you have not heard from Blake after the day he came here,"
Greythorpe said.

"Never directly," Challoner replied. "On the whole, it is better so,
though I regret it now and then. A weakness on my part, perhaps, but I
was fond of Dick and expected much from him. However, it seems that
Bertram and Margaret Keith met him in Montreal, and she is coming here
to-morrow."

"A very sad affair." Greythorpe mused. "A promising career cut short
and a life ruined by a moment's failure of nerve. The price paid for
it was a heavy one. Still, I found the matter difficult to understand,
because, so far as I could tell, there was nothing in Blake's character
that made such a failure possible. Then it's known that personal
courage was always a characteristic of your family."

"His mother was my sister. You have seen her portrait."

Greythorpe made a sign of assent. He knew the picture of the woman
with the proud, determined face.

"And the other side? Was the strain equally virile?" he asked.

"You shall judge," said Challoner. "You and Margaret Keith are the
o