from everything else in life which makes for happiness, to forget that
you are a man, and turn yourself into a law-making machine, well, then,
I am sorry. I think that your success will be a curse to you. I think
that you will live to regret it."

Mannering looked at her for a moment with a gleam of his old self shining
out of his eyes. A sudden pathos, a wave of self-pity had softened his
face.

"Dear child!" he said, gravely, "I cannot make you understand. I carry
a burden from which no one can free me. For good or for evil the powers
that be have set my feet in the path of the climbers, and for the sake of
those whose sufferings I have seen I must struggle upwards to the end.
Berenice and the Duchess of Lenchester are two very different persons. I
cannot take one into my life without the other. It is because I love her,
Hester, that I let her go. Good-night, child!"

She kissed his hand and went slowly to her room, stumbling upstairs
through a mist of tears. There was nothing more that she could do.

CHAPTER IV

CHECKMATE TO BORROWDEAN

Mannering's town house, none too large at any time, was transformed into
a little hive of industry. Two hurriedly appointed secretaries were at
work in the dining-room, and Hester was busy typing in her own little
sanctum.

Mannering sat in his study before a table covered with papers, and for
the first time during the day was alone for a few moments.

His servant brought in a card. Mannering glanced at it and frowned.

"The gentleman said that he would not keep you for more than a moment,
sir," the servant announced quietly, mindful of the half-sovereign which
had been slipped into his hand.

Mannering still looked at the card doubtfully.

"You can show him up," he said at last.

"Very good, sir!"

The man withdrew, and reappeared to usher in Sir Leslie Borrowdean.
Mannering greeted him without offering his hand.

"You wished to see me, Sir Leslie?" he asked.

Borrowdean came slowly into the room. He closed the door behind him.

"I hope," he said, "that you will not consider my presence an intrusion!"

"You have business with me, I presume," Mannering answered, coldly. "Pray
sit down."

Borrowdean ignored the chair, towards which Mannering had motioned. He
came and stood by the side of the table.

"Unless your memory, Mannering," he said, with a hard little laugh, "is
as short as the proverbial politician's, you can scarcely be surprised at
my visit."