of the road a precarious roothold on the patches of ground
not covered by pine needles. Merriman gazed unceasingly ahead at the
straight white ribbon of the road, as he pondered the problem of what
he should do if once again he should be disappointed in his quest.
Madeleine could not, he thought, remain indefinitely away. Mr. Coburn at
all events would have to return to his work, and it would be a strange
thing if he could not obtain from the father some indication of his
daughter's whereabouts.

But his call at the manager's house was as fruitless on this occasion as
on those preceding. The woman from whom he had received the note opened
the door and repeated her former statement. Mr. and Miss Coburn were
still from home.

Merriman turned away disconsolately, and walked slowly back across
the clearing and down the lane. Though he told himself he had expected
nothing from the visit, he was nevertheless bitterly disappointed with
its result. And worse than his disappointment was his inability to see
his next step, or even to think of any scheme which might lead him to
the object of his hopes.

He trudged on down the lane, his head sunk and his brows knitted, only
half conscious of his surroundings. Looking up listlessly as he rounded
a bend, he stopped suddenly as if turned to stone, while his heart first
stood still, then began thumping wildly as if to choke him. A few yards
away and coming to meet him was Madeleine!

She caught sight of him at the same instant and stopped with a low cry,
while an expression of dread came over her face. So for an appreciable
time they stood looking at one another, then Merriman, regaining the
power of motion, sprang forward and seized her hands.

"Madeleine! Madeleine!" he cried brokenly. "My own one! My beloved!" He
almost sobbed as he attempted to strain her to his heart.

But she wrenched herself from him.

"No, no!" she gasped. "You must not! I told you. It cannot be."

He pleaded with her, fiercely, passionately, and at last despairingly.
But he could not move her. Always she repeated that it could not be.

"At least tell me this," he begged at last. "Would you marry me if this
syndicate did not exist; I mean if Mr. Coburn was not mixed up with it?"

At first she would not answer, but presently, overcome by his
persistence, she burst once again into tears and admitted that her fear
of disgrace arising through discovery of the syndicate's activities was
her only reason fo