ood
lamp-post outside that's just waiting for your sort of German."

He had refused to pay her for the last week, also. But that she knew
well enough was because he was out of money. As fast as Anna's salary
had come in, he had taken out of it the small allowance that was to
cover the week's expenses, and had banked the remainder. But Anna had
carried her last pay envelope away with her, and added to his anger at
her going was his fear that he would have to draw on his savings.

With Katie gone, he set heavily about preparing his Sunday dinner. Long
years of service done for him, however, had made him clumsy. He cooked a
wretched meal, and then, leaving the dishes as they were, he sat by the
fire and brooded. When Rudolph came in, later, he found him there, in
his stocking-feet, a morose and untidy figure.

Rudolph's reception of the news roused him, however. He looked up, after
the telling, to find the younger man standing over him and staring down
at him with blood-shot eyes.

"You beat her!" he was saying. "What with?"

"What does that matter--She had bought herself a watch--"

"What did you beat her with?" Rudolph was licking his lips. Receiving no
reply, he called "Katie!"

"Katie has gone."

"Maybe you beat her, too."

"She wasn't my daughter."

"No by God! You wouldn't dare to touch her. She didn't belong to you.
You--"

"Get out," said Herman, somberly. He stood up menacingly. "You go, now."

Rudolph hesitated. Then he laughed.

"All right, old top," he said, in a conciliatory tone. "No offense
meant. I lost my temper."

He picked up the empty coal-scuffle, and went out into the shed where
the coal was kept. He needed a minute to think. Besides, he always
brought in coal when he was there. In the shed, however, he put down the
scuttle and stood still.

"The old devil!" he muttered.

But his rage for Anna was followed by rage against her. Where was she
to-night? Did Graham Spencer know where she was? And if he did, what
then? Were they at that moment somewhere together? Hidden away, the two
of them? The conviction that they were together grew on him, and with it
a frenzy that was almost madness. He left the coal scuttle in the shed,
and went out into the air. For a half hour he stood there, looking down
toward the Spencer furnace, sending up, now red, now violet bursts of
flame.

He was angry enough, jealous enough. But he was quick, too, to see that
that particular lump of potters' clay wh