dismal, wretched, discouraging story than to follow the
fortunes of Thaddeus of Warsaw through the long succession of printed
pages. And he had read Thaddeus's story before. He knew exactly how it
would end. But how would his own story end? He might speculate much, but
nowhere in all his speculations was there a sign of a happy ending.

His pipe went out, he tossed the book upon the table among the supper
dishes--Judah had been in too great a hurry to clear away--and leaned
back in his chair. Then he rose and walked--he could walk pretty well
now, the limp was but slight--to the window and, lifting the shade,
peered out.

He could see nothing, or almost nothing. The illumined windows made
yellow pools of light upon the wet bricks below them, and across the
darkness above were shining ribbons of rain. Against the black sky
shapes of deeper blackness were moving rapidly, the bare thrashing
branches of the locust tree. It was a beastly night, so he thought as he
looked out at it; a beastly night in a wretched world.

Then above the noises of screeching wind and splashing water he heard
other sounds, sounds growing louder, approaching footsteps. Some one was
coming up the walk from the road.

He thought of course that it was Judah returning. He could not imagine
why he should return, but it was more impossible to imagine any one
else being out and coming to the Minot place on such a night. A figure,
bent to the storm, passed across the light from the window. Captain
Kendrick dropped the shade and strode through the little entry to the
back door. He threw it open.

"Come in, Judah," he ordered. "Come in quick, before we both drown."

But the man who came in was not Judah Cahoon. He was George Kent.

CHAPTER XVI

The young man plunged across the threshold, the skirts of his dripping
overcoat flapping about his knees and the water pouring from the brim of
his hat. He carried the ruin of what had been an umbrella in his hand.
It had been blown inside out, and was now but a crumpled tangle of wet
fabric and bent and bristling wire. He stumbled over the sill, halted,
and turning, addressed the man who had opened the door.

"Cap'n," he stammered, breathlessly, "I--I--I've come to see you. I--I
know you must think--I don't know what you can think--but--but----"

Kendrick interrupted. He was surprised, but he did not permit his
astonishment to loosen his grip on realities.

"Go in the other room," he ordered. "I