t your niece calls the 'dusty
byways,'" he explained with a forced laugh.

* * * * *

CHAPTER IX

AWAY FROM THE TOWN

When John Steele, contrary to custom, set aside, in deciding to leave
London that day, all logical methods of reasoning and acted on what was
nothing more than an irresistible impulse, he did not attempt to
belittle to himself the possible consequences that might accrue from his
action. He was not following the course intelligence had directed; he
was not embarking on a journey his best interests would have prompted;
on the contrary, he knew himself mad, foolish. But not for one moment
did he regret his decision; stubbornly, obstinately he set his back
toward the town; with an enigmatical gleam in his dark eyes he looked
away from the blur Sir Charles and he had left behind them.

Green pastures, bright prospects! Whence were they leading him? His gaze
was now somber, then bright; though more often shadows passed over his
face, like clouds in the sky.

Outwardly his manner had become unconcerned, collected; he listened to
Sir Charles' jokes, offered casual comments of his own. He even
performed his wonted part in relieving the tedium of a long journey with
voluntary contributions to conversations on divers topics in which he
displayed wide and far-reaching knowledge. He answered the many
questions of his companion on the different habits of criminals; how
they lived; the possibilities for reforming the worst of the lot; the
various methods toward this end advocated by the idealist. These and
other subjects he touched on with poignant, illuminating comment.

Sir Charles regarded him once or twice in surprise. "You have seen a
deal in your day," he observed, "of the under world, I mean!" John
Steele returned an evasive answer. The nobleman showed a tendency to
doze in his seat, despite the jolts and jars of the way, and,
thereafter, until they arrived at Strathorn the two fellow travelers
rode on in silence.

This little hamlet lay in a sleepy-looking dell; as the driver swung
down a hill he whipped up his horses and literally charged upon the
town; swept through the main thoroughfare and drew up with a flourish
before the principal tavern. Sir Charles started, stretched his legs;
John Steele got down.

"Conveyance of any kind here, waiting to take us to Strathorn House?"
called out the former as he stiffly descended the ladder at the side of
the coach.