t a state this weather
can get one into...."

But he had come back to his senses. His brain was clear; he could think
now. The great point was that it was of no use to think of himself in
this affair. "Rachel, Rachel's the only thing that matters."

Then upon that came the decision. "That old woman's got to pay for it.
She's been wantin' to give Rachel a bad time. She's tried to. Her
mouth's got to be stopped _however_ old and ill she is!"

He was fiercely, furiously indignant with her--vanished, it appeared,
all his affection, the sentiment of years. "I've got to defend Rachel
from her, no knowin' _whom_ she's been tellin'." Roddy still found it
impossible to admit more than one idea at a time, and the idea now was
that "he must stop the old lady dead."

His brain came round now to Breton, and halted there. What kind of
fellow, after all, was he? What, after all, did Roddy know about him
that he could so easily condemn him?

To-night, fresh from the battle with the Creature, Roddy's view of the
world was painted with new colours. The man had been condemned for
things that his father had done, and one recognized, here in London, how
difficult it was for a fellow to climb up once he had been pushed down.

Was the man in love with Rachel? Well, Roddy did not know that he could
blame him for that? ... difficult enough, surely, for anyone not to be.
But _was_ he? What, after all, was he like?

Then swiftly the answer came to him. See the man.... Talk to him ...
know him. He stared at the idea, felt already new energy in his bones
and a surging victory over the lethargy of this awful evening at the
suggestion of some definite action.

But see him, yes, and see him here and see him soon. His impatience
leapt now hotly upon him; he pulled Jacob's ears. "That's the ticket,
old boy, ain't it? See what kind of a ruffian this is! My word, but
wouldn't the old lady hate it if she knew?"

But, and at this the room flared with the thrill of it, why not have her
here to meet him? Confront her with him.

He was cool now. Here was matter that needed careful handling. Still as
vigorous now as in his most active days was his impatience. Was
something in the way, cobwebs, barriers, obstacles of any sort? Brush
them aside, beat them down!

Here was a plan. Here, too, most happily at hand, was the Duchess's
punishment.

All these years had the old lady been refusing to set eyes upon her
grandson, therefore, how dramatic would