hat all right. No, he'll never
say so. He's not the sort. But it's the truth, all the same.
He's about the biggest disappointment in Burke's life. He'd never
have left him to sink if he hadn't been afraid the boy would shoot
himself if he did anything else."

"Ah!" Sylvia said again, with a sharp catch in her breath. "That
was what he was afraid of."

"Sure, that was it," said Kelly cheerfully. "You'll generally find
that that good man of yours has a pretty decent reason for
everything he does. It isn't often he loses his head--or his
temper. He's a fine chap to be friendly with, but a divil to
cross."

"Yes. I've heard that before," Sylvia said, with a valiant little
smile. "I should prefer to be friendly with him myself."

"Ah, sure and you're right," said Kelly. "But is it yourself that
could be anything else? Why, he worships the very ground under
your feet. I saw that clear as daylight that time at Brennerstadt."

She felt her heart quicken a little. "How--clever of you!" she
said.

He nodded with beaming appreciation of the compliment. "You'll
find my conclusions are generally pretty near the mark," he said.
"It isn't difficult to know what's in the minds of the people
you're fond of. Now is it?"

She stifled a sigh. "I don't know. I'm not very good at
thought-reading myself."

He chuckled like a merry child. "Ah, then you come to me, Mrs.
Ranger!" he said. "I'll be proud to help ye any time."

"I expect you help most people," she said. "You are everybody's
friend."

"I do my best," said Donovan Kelly modestly. "And, faith, a very
pleasant occupation it is."

CHAPTER VI

THE HERO

The wind went down somewhat at sunset and Sylvia realized with
relief that the worst was over. She sat listening for the return
of Burke and Guy while her companion chatted cheerfully of a
thousand things which might have interested her at any other time
but to which now she gave but fitful attention.

He was in the midst of telling her about the draw for the great
diamond at Brennerstadt and how the tickets had been reduced from
monkeys to ponies because the monkeys were too shy, when there came
the sound for which she waited--a hand upon the window-catch and
the swirl of sand blown in by the draught as it opened.

She was up in a moment, guarding the candle and looking out over it
with eager, half-dazzled eyes. For an instant her look met Burke's
as he stood in the aperture, then swi