k to life, and if not,--and he
had a conviction that that would be his decision,--he must not dally
with tempting thoughts and hopes of any sort.

But it was hard! Blair dead, Shelby famous, and he, Peter, unable to
talk things over with any relative, chum or friend.

He must talk to somebody, and on his way out of the theater he spoke to
the box office man.

"Wonderful show," he said, smiling at him. "Who's this Shelby?"

"He's the big push of to-day," was the enthusiastic reply. "He's a
marvel of efficiency and generalship. And a big author, too."

"He wrote the play as well as produced it, I see."

"Yes. Oh, he can do anything."

"Married man?"

"No; but I've heard he's engaged to a girl,--a Miss Harper, I believe."

Peter choked. The last straw! But he might have known,--he, himself,
supposed dead, Blair dead, what more natural than that Carly should turn
to old Kit?

With a mere nod to the man who had unwittingly dealt him this final
blow, Peter walked out into the night.

And he walked and walked. Up Broadway to the Circle, on up and into
Riverside Drive, and along the Hudson as far as he could go.

Thinking deeply, planning desperately, only to be confronted with the
awful picture of his father's consternation at the shattering of his
beliefs and the collapse of his celebrity.

At times he would tell himself he was absurdly apprehensive, that any
parents would rather have their lost son restored than to have the
applause and notoriety of public fame. And, then, he would realize that
while that might be generally true, yet this was a peculiar case. His
father was a proud, sensitive nature. Perhaps--Peter shuddered,--perhaps
he wouldn't love a son who by his return made him the most laughed at
man in the whole world!

Peter longed to go to some one for advice. Shelby, now,--his big
efficient mind would know at once what was best to do.

But he couldn't disclose himself to Kit and not to any one else. Kit
couldn't keep that a secret, even if he wanted to do so.

And-- Kit was engaged to Carly! He never wanted to see either of them
again!

Poor, lonely, troubled Peter. Only one plain, sure truth abided. He
_must_ do his duty, and he felt pretty sure he knew what that duty was.
It was to stay out of the life he had lost.

There was no other possible course.

He turned and retraced his steps southward, and finally went across
town, drawn as by a magnet to his own home.

Home! What a mockery th