antly, "that Dr.--that your friend--would be above--?"

"I swear to you, Con," I assured her. "I know Jack Foe inside and
out."

She had opened her fan again very deliberately; and as deliberately
she closed it.

"No man ever knew that of a man," she said; "nor no woman either.
. . . You're a rotter, Roddy--but you're rather a dear."

NIGHT THE THIRTEENTH.

ESCAPE.

Somewhere in the bustle of landing and scrimmage past the Customs,
Miss Denistoun lost sight of the two travellers; and with that, for a
time, she goes out of the story.

You may almost put it that for a time they do the same. At all
events for the next few weeks the record keeps a very slight hold on
them and their doings. Jack knew, you see, that--though not a
disapproving sort, as a rule, and in those days (though you children
will hardly believe it) inclined to like my friends the better for
doing what they jolly well pleased--I barred this vendetta-game of
his, and would have called him off if I could. Folk were a bit more
squeamish, if you remember, in those dear old pre-War days.

But please note _this_, for it is a part of his story. Jack wrote
seldom, having a sense that I didn't want to hear. When he did
write, however, he was liable at any time to break away from the
light, half-jesting, half-defiant tone which he had purposely chosen
to cover our disagreement, and to give me a sentence or two, or even
a page, of cold-blooded confession. It may have been that his
purpose, at that point, suddenly absorbed him, sucked him under.
It may have been that his fixed idea had begun to spread like a
disease over his other sensibilities, hardening and deadening the
tissue, so that he did this kind of thing unconsciously. It may have
been both. You shall judge before we have finished.

I will give you just one specimen. It occurs in the very first
letter addressed from America. He and Farrell had spent five days in
New York:

"I am going to ease the chain--to run it out several lengths,
in fact. I shall still keep pretty close in attendance on the
patient, but my professional visits will be rarer. A new and
more strenuous course of treatment requires these holidays, if
his nerves are not to break down under it.

"The suggestion, after all, came from him, and I am merely
improving on it. . . . This continent has started a small
heat-wave--the first of the summer. Now Farrell, who perspir