al self, and as
he nodded from the window of the train bore little resemblance to the
demoralized wretch of the night.

Nevertheless, he hastened to his grandfather, for he knew how little the
mood of the moment may presage that of an hour hence; although he was
reasonably sure that if Zeal lived until the following morning it would
be some time before he brought himself to the sticking-point again. He
announced to his mother and his guests that it was his duty to spend
twenty-four hours with his grandfather, promising to return in time for
two hours' shooting on the morrow.

He took for granted that Zeal had gone to London. What then was his
foreboding horror when Lord Strathland, as they sat alone at
luncheon--the unmarried aunts were visiting--remarked with acerbity:

"Zeal arrived on the train before yours--went straight to his room,
giving orders he was not to be called until dinner--has not honored me
with so much as an intimation that he was in the house--Where are you
going?"

Gwynne had half risen. He sat down hastily.

"I was afraid he might be ill," he replied, coolly. "But doubtless he
merely had a bad night and wants sleep."

In a flash he had understood. It was like Zeal's cynicism to die as
close to the family vault as possible.

No meal had ever seemed as long as that last luncheon with his
grandfather, who promptly dismissed the subject of his detested heir and
asked a hundred questions about the campaign. A fierce sense of
protecting the two men he loved best enabled Gwynne to answer as
collectedly as if he had not been possessed with the sickening idea that
the very bones had gone out of him. When luncheon was over he
accompanied his grandfather to the library, then after smoking a third
of a cigar, left him to his nap, frankly stating that he thought he had
better look up Zeal, who had been rather seedy of late; he would risk
being unwelcome.

He walked slowly up the stair and along the corridor to his cousin's
suite; he was in no hurry to reach it, but neither could he wait for the
possible discovery of the servants at the dinner-hour.

He knocked at the door of the sitting-room. There was no answer. He
turned the handle. The door was locked. Then he pounded and called. He
was about to fling himself against the door when he heard a quick step
in the corridor, and before he could retreat Lord Strathland was beside
him. There was no defect in the old gentleman's eyesight nor in his
percept