ad created.
Then his wife could gain her freedom--and incidentally free him--and
marry as she willed. And Drummond would be free to come to life--with
hands unstained, his honour besmirched only in the knowledge of a few
who would not tell.

Did he remain, Drummond, he feared, would prove a troublesome problem.
Whitaker was, in the light of sober after-thought, more than half
convinced that Ember had guessed cunningly at the identity of his
assailant. The thing was conceivable, at least, of Drummond: the
hedonist and egoist seeking to regain his forfeited world in one
murderous cast. And it was hardly conceivable that he would hesitate to
make a second attempt whenever opportunity offered. New York, Whitaker
saw clearly, was far too small to contain them both while Drummond
remained at liberty. By attempting to stay there he would simply invite
a second attempt upon his life, merely strengthen Drummond's temptation.

He thought it very curious that he had heard nothing more of the
proposed action for divorce. It might be well to communicate again with
his wife's attorneys.

He went to bed with a mind unsettled, still curious, speculative, unable
to fix upon any definite course of conduct.

And the second day was like unto the first: a day of rain and wind and
fog periodically punctuated by black squalls that tore shrieking across
the bay with the blind fury of spirits of destruction gone stark, raving
mad.

The third day broke full of the spirit of the second; but toward noon
the rain ceased, and by mid-afternoon the violence of the wind had
moderated perceptibly to a stiffish but failing breeze beneath a
breaking cloud-rack. With the disappearance of fog, for the first time
since Whitaker's arrival the neighbourhood discovered perspectives. By
evening, when the wind went down with the sun, leaving absolute calm,
the barrier beach far across the quiet waters of the shallow, landlocked
bay shone like a bar of ruddy gold against a horizon of melting mauve.

In the evening, too, a telegram from Ember was transmitted by telephone
to the bungalow, advising Whitaker of his host's intention to return by
the following night at the latest.

This communication worked with the turn of the weather to effect a
change in the temper of Whitaker, who by this time had managed to fret
himself to the verge of incontinent departure for Australia _via_ New
York. He decided, however, to wait and thank Ember for his hospitality,
and