s still tremulously on the _qui vive_ for the
slightest sound. Mary went off to bed in the store-room. The others
remained sitting before the fire in Imbrie's two chairs. For them sleep
was out of the question. Each had privately determined to sit up all
night.

For a long time they remained there without speaking.

Stonor had said nothing to Clare about the conclusions he had arrived at
concerning Imbrie, but she gathered from his attitude that he was
passing judgment against the man they had come in search of, and she
said at last:

"Did you notice that little book that I picked up off the desk?"

Stonor nodded.

"It was his diary. Shall I read you from it?"

"If you think it is right."

"Yes. Just an extract or two. To show you the kind of man he is."

The book was in the side pocket of her coat. Opening it, and leaning
forward to get the light of the fire, she read:

"April 29th: The ice is preparing to go out. Great booming cracks have
been issuing from the river all day at intervals. When the jam at the
head of the rapids goes it will be a great sight. To-morrow I'll take a
bite to eat with me, and go down to the falls to watch what happens.
Thank God for the coming of Spring! I'm pretty nearly at the end of my
resources. I've read and re-read my few books and papers until I can
almost repeat the contents by heart. I've finished my desk, and the
candlesticks, and the frame for Clare's picture. But now I'll be able to
make my garden. And I can sod a little lawn in front of the house with
buffalo-grass."

Clare looked at Stonor for an expression of opinion.

The policeman murmured diffidently: "A real good sort."

"Wait!" she said. "Listen to this. One of the first entries." She read
in a moved voice:

"They say that a man who lives cut off from his kind is bound to
degenerate swiftly, but, by God! I won't have it so in my case. I'll be
on my guard against the first symptoms. I shave every day and will
continue to do so. Shaving is a symbol. I will keep my person and my
house as trim as if I expected her to visit me hourly. Half of each day
I'll spend in useful manual labour of some kind, and half in reading and
contemplation. The power is mine to build or destroy myself with my
thoughts. Well, I choose to build!"

Clare looked at Stonor again.

"That is fine!" he said simply.

"So you see--why I had to come," she murmured.

He did not see why the one followed necessarily on the other, nor did