ture called."

"So far as we know," said Alice, "it was the custom to honor one lady,
always. The Border chiefs were rude, but they had their virtues, and
there are some pretty stories of their constancy."

Foster imagined he saw a faint sparkle in her eyes. He would have
liked to think she resented his having gone to Newcastle on Carmen's
behalf, but doubted this. After a pause she resumed:

"People say we are decadent and getting slack with luxury, but one
likes to think the spirit of the race survives all changed conditions
and can't be destroyed. There is a colliery not very far off where the
water broke in some years ago. The men in the deep workings were cut
off, but the few who escaped went back into the pit--and never came up.
They knew the thing was impossible, their leaders frankly told them so,
but they would not be denied. Well, the colliery was not reopened, the
shaft-head towers are falling down, but there's a granite fountain on
the moor that will stand for ages to record the splendid sacrifice."

"They had all to lose," said Foster. "One must admire, without hoping
to emulate, a deed like that."

Alice changed the subject rather abruptly. "What you have told me is
puzzling. I can't see why the police followed you, and there's
something mysterious about the packet. It all seems connected with
Lawrence's affairs, and yet I can't see how. I suppose you have no
explanation?"

"Not yet. I feel there's something going on in which I may by and by
take a part. The clews break off, but I may find one that's stronger,
and then----"

He stopped, but Alice gave him an understanding glance. "Then you
would follow the clew, even if it led you into some danger, for
Lawrence's sake?"

"I'd try," said Foster, with a flush that gave him a curiously
ingenuous look. "As I've no particular talent for that kind of thing,
I mightn't do much good, but you have accused me of being romantic and
I've owned that I am rash."

Alice smiled. "You're certainly modest; but there's a rashness that is
much the same as generosity."

Then Featherstone came in and after a time took Foster to the library,
where he gave him a cigarette.

"It's strange we haven't heard from Lawrence yet," he said in a
disturbed voice. "He hasn't given the Canadian post office his new
address, because here's a letter they have sent on."

"From Hulton, who seems to be in Toronto," said Foster, picking up the
envelope. "As I'm a p