.. I have been so happy that the old anguish which
tore my soul years ago seemed easier to bear than this exquisite pain. I
must get used to it. Listen now to the story of my escape, and row
gently while you listen so as to miss not a word."

Arthur did not tell his chum more than half of the tale, chiefly because
Louis was never to know the story of Horace Endicott. He had gone to New
York at the invitation of Livingstone. This surprising incident began a
series of surprises. The Currans had returned from California, and made
their report to Sonia; and to Livingstone of all men the wife of Horace
Endicott had gone for advice in so delicate an affair as forcing Arthur
Dillon to prove and defend his identity. After two or three interviews
with Livingstone Arthur carried his report to Monsignor.

"All this looks to me," said the priest, "as if the time for a return
to your own proper personality had come. You know how I have feared the
consequences of this scheme. The more I look into it, the more terrible
it seems."

"And why should I give up now of all times? when I am a success?" cried
the young fellow. "Do I fear Livingstone and the lawyers? Curran and his
wife have done their best, and failed. Will the lawyers do any better?"

"It is not that," said the priest. "But you will always be annoyed in
this way. The sharks and blackmailers will get after you later...."

"No, no, no, Monsignor. This effort of the Currans and Mrs. Endicott
will be the last. I won't permit it. There will be no result from
Livingstone's interference. He can go as far as interviews with me, but
not one step beyond. And I can guarantee that no one will ever take up
the case after him."

"You are not reasonable," urged the priest. "The very fact that these
people suspect you to be Horace Endicott is enough; it proves that you
have been discovered."

"I am only the twentieth whom they pursued for Horace," he laughed.
"Curran knows I am not Endicott. He has proved to the satisfaction of
Livingstone that I am Arthur Dillon. But the two women are pertinacious,
and urge the men on. Since these are well paid for their trouble, why
should they not keep on?"

"They are not the only pertinacious ones," the priest replied.

"You may claim a little of the virtue yourself," Arthur slyly remarked.
"You have urged me to betray myself into the hands of enemies once a
month for the last five years."

"In this case would it not be better to get an advan