r; you did not marry because she might have
had money; you did not marry her out of gratitude; you did not
marry her because you had to. You just married her! But there she
is--'with her eyes full of sapphires and her mouth full of
pearls'!" McClintock quoted with gentle irony. "What have you got
there in your breast--a stone? Is there blood or water in your
veins?"

The dam broke, but not with violence. A vast relief filled
Spurlock's heart as he decided to tell this man everything which
related to Ruth. This island was the one haven he had; he might be
forced to remain here for several years--until the Hand had
forgotten him. He must win this man's confidence, even at the risk
of being called mad. So, in broken, rather breathless phrases, he
told his story; and when he had done, he laid his arms upon the
table and bent his head to them.

There followed a silence which endured several minutes; or, rather
a tableau. The candles--for McClintock never used oil in his dining
room--were burning low in the sconces. Occasionally the flames
would bend, twist and writhe crazily as the punka-boy bestirred
himself.

McClintock's astonishment merged into a state of mild hypnosis.
That any human being could conceive and execute such a thing! A
Roundhead, here in these prosaic times!--and mad as a hatter!
Trying the role of St. Anthony, when God Himself had found only one
man strong enough for that! McClintock shook his head violently, as
if to dismiss this dream he was having. But the objects in his
range of vision remained unchanged. Presently he reached out and
laid his hand upon Spurlock's motionless shoulders.

"'Tis a cruel thing you've done, lad. Even if you were sick in the
mind and did not understand what you were doing, it's a mighty
cruel thing you have done. Probably she mistook you; probably she
thought you cared. I'm neither an infidel nor an agnostic, so I'll
content myself by saying that the hand of God is in this somewhere.
'He's a good fellow, and 'twill all end well'. You have set out to
do something which is neither God's way nor man's. What'll you be
doing?"

"What can I do?" asked Spurlock, raising his haggard face. "Can't
you see? I can't hurt her, if ... if she cares! I can't tell her
I'm a madman as well as a thief!... What a fool! What a fool!"

A thief. McClintock's initial revulsion was natural; he was an
honest man. But this revulsion was engulfed by the succeeding waves
of pity and understandi