"That's much better than insulting you behind your back, isn't it? You
are sure who does it and you can act accordingly."

"Is that a challenge to fight?"

"Take it any way you like. I am anxious to get my hands on somebody
to-day, for I want a little exercise. I'm getting tired of doing
nothing."

"But there's nothing to be gained by fighting," Bramshaw protested.
"What reason have we for fighting?"

Jasper gave a sarcastic laugh, and looked the artist up and down.

"You certainly wouldn't gain much by fighting, but I would. Sydney
Bramshaw, I believe you are a miserable sneak, ay, and worse, and it
would be a great satisfaction for me to get my hands on your measly
carcass just for two minutes."

Under the impulse of the moment Jasper had left the road and approached
close to the artist. The latter shrank back and his face paled at the
action of his formidable opponent.

"Bah! I wouldn't touch you," Jasper sneered. "I wouldn't spoil your
nice clothes and your soft delicate hands. Oh, no. Go on with your
work of painting the beautiful things in nature."

For a few seconds Jasper stood and looked upon the man cowering before
him. He longed to pierce his very soul that he might learn whether his
suspicious were really true. He was tempted to startle him with a
question about that envelope. But, no, he felt that it would be better
to consult the lawyer before saying anything.

Leaving the artist, Jasper regained the highway with a bound, and
hurried onward. It did not take him long now to reach the road leading
to the Haven, and his angry mood passed like a cloud from the face of
the sun when he saw Lois standing there beneath the shade of a large
tree. Her eyes brightened when she saw him, and without a word she
held out her hand. For a few heartbeats neither spoke, but their eyes
met, and Jasper knew by the look that Lois gave him that she at least
was true and believed in him.

"You know all?" he stammered.

"No, not all," was the quiet reply. "But I know enough to make me
certain that the people in this place are wrong in their suspicions."

"Whom do they suspect?" Jasper eagerly asked, thinking that perhaps he
might learn something new.

"Don't you know?"

"Yes, I'm afraid I do," Jasper bitterly replied. "But I can endure it
if I know that you believe me to be innocent."

"I certainly do, no matter what others think."

"What proof have you?"

"Your life; isn't that proof enough?