wondered. Would Lucas have to wait till he had sold
a few more pictures? wondered Jean. He ran whistling up the steps and
rang the bell. She burst radiantly into the somber hall. And then, at
twelve o'clock in the morning of an ordinary working week-day, they
found the junior partner at home to receive them. Such a portent had
never before been seen.

"Where's father?" asked Jean.

Andrew's cheeks twitched nervously; yet on the whole he maintained a
compassionate expression highly honorable to his fraternal instincts.
In a hushed voice he addressed his sister.

"I want to have a word with you," said he.

He took her apart from her brother and shut the library door securely.
Frank was such a hot-tempered young fellow; and he had suffered one
physical outrage already. In a voice as appropriate as his face he
gently broke the news--

"Our father has been removed to an asylum."

"Removed--to an asylum!" gasped Jean.

She did not strike him, but on the whole he was even more glad when that
interview came to an end than when he saw the widow's muscular back at
last turn from the front door.

* * * * *

A few days afterwards a tall man in a sportsmanlike ulster walked up the
gangway of a steamship bound for a port in South America. He was
followed on board by a friend with very blue eyes and a cavalier
mustache. They talked for a few minutes and then shook hands
affectionately.

"Well, Lucas, good-by, old fellow," said the passenger. "And remember
now what you're to tell them. They're not to drop a hint--not a whisper
of what they know. Just keep your tails up all of you, as best you can.
Handy thing, this revolver we chose. I must practise shooting from the
hip pocket. I say, take special care of Jean. Tell her I know how plucky
she is--she'll be staunch--she'll wait. Tell her I'll often be
thinking--Hullo, last bell; you'd better get on shore."

A little later the steamer was in the middle of the gray Thames, bearing
Heriot, his fortunes, and his six-shooter far, far from the office of
Walkingshaw & Gilliflower. The protagonist of virtuous respectability
sat there triumphantly enshrined. He had done everything a good man
could reasonably be expected to do; only he had not imagined Lucas
Vernon waving a farewell to his late partner.

PART V

CHAPTER I

Even in the heyday of Mr. Walkingshaw's career, when he was most
conspicuously an example to his fellow-citizen