out him, but they had no idea of what
he intended to do. True to their promise, they said nothing about the
compact which they had made, and while some of Leicester's friends
thought he would be a suitor for Miss Castlemaine's hand, others were
just as certain that he was "not a marrying man." But no one seemed
certain. Leicester was not a man who gave his confidence freely, and of
late he seemed less sociable to his acquaintances than ever. As for
friends, he did not possess any.

More than once Purvis and Sprague sought to make him divulge his
intentions, but when they asked him questions he looked at them in a way
that, to say the least, did not encourage them. When he happened to meet
Olive Castlemaine, he was interested, eager, and sometimes almost
excited; with others he was moody, taciturn, and evidently far from
happy.

At last one day the light of resolution came into his eyes. He lunched
at his club, and then, having dressed with great care, he made his way
to Olive Castlemaine's home. He had received no invitation, neither did
he know whether he would find her in the house. Nevertheless he went.
During his journey there, he seemed in deep thought. At the railway
station he bought a paper, but he never looked at it. Sometimes he
looked out of the window, but evidently he saw nothing. He was as
unconscious of his surroundings as a sleep-walker.

Presently he drew near the station which he knew to be the nearest to
The Beeches, and then he rose in the carriage and walked between the
seats, as though he were considering some course of action.

"Shall I tell her the truth, the whole truth?" he said presently. "Shall
I relate to her the miserable----? No, no--not that!" He set his teeth
firmly together as he spoke. "No, no--not that!" he repeated, and again
he looked out of the carriage window with the same stony stare.

"If she refuses me----" he said presently. "But no, I'll not be refused.
If she says no a hundred times, I'll ask her again. I won't, no I
_can't_ be refused. It would be----"

The man's body grew rigid as he spoke. Evidently Radford Leicester was
in a stern mood, and bent upon a mission which affected him deeply.

The train stopped, and the porters shouted the name of the station. He
stepped on to the platform and looked around him. Only a very few people
had come by the train; the time was yet too early for the City men.
Outside the station he engaged a hansom, and told the man to drive hi