ly killed
her."

"Ah, they're all--they're all against me!" the lad cried. "They've
always stood together against me. Helen, too!"

"You wouldn't think they were against you if you could just see them
once now," said Ste. Marie.

And Arthur Benham gave a sort of shamefaced sob, saying:

"Ah, cut it out! Cut it out! Go on, then, and talk, if you want to, _I_
don't care. I don't have to listen. Talk, if you're pining for it."

And Ste. Marie, as briefly as he could, told him the truth of the whole
affair from the beginning, as he had told it to Coira O'Hara. Only he
laid special stress upon Charles Stewart's present expectations from the
new will, and he assured the boy that no document his grandfather might
have asked him to sign could have given away his rights in his father's
fortune, since he was a minor and had no legal right to sign away
anything at all even if he wished to.

"If you will look back as calmly and carefully as you can," he said,
"you will find that you didn't begin to suspect your grandfather of
anything wrong until you had talked with Captain Stewart. It was your
uncle's explanation of the thing that made you do that. Well, remember
what he had at stake--I suppose it is a matter of several millions of
francs. And he needs them. His affairs are in a bad way."

He told also about the pretended search which Captain Stewart had so
long maintained, and of how he had tried to mislead the other searchers
whose motives were honest.

"It has been a gigantic gamble, my friend," he said, at the last. "A
gigantic and desperate gamble to get the money that should be yours. You
can end it by the mere trouble of climbing over that wall yonder and
taking the Clamart tram back to Paris. As easily as that you can end
it--and, if I am not mistaken, you can at the same time save an old
man's life--prolong it at the very least." He took a step forward. "I
beg you to go!" he said, very earnestly. "You know the whole truth now.
You must see what danger you have been and are in. You must know that I
am telling you the truth. I beg you to go back to Paris."

And from where she stood, a little aside, Coira O'Hara said: "I beg you,
too, Arthur. Go back to them."

The boy dropped down upon a tree-stump which was near and covered his
face with his hands. The two who watched him could see that he was
trembling violently. Over him their eyes met and they questioned each
other with a mute and anxious gravity:

"What w