e, whose fingers were playing with a little gold cross. 'By Jove!'
he thought, 'I believe old Ted's like one of those Eastern chaps who go
into lonely places. He's got himself surrounded by visions of things
that aren't there. He lives in unreality--something we can't understand.
I shouldn't be surprised if he heard voices, like--'who was it? Tt, tt!
What a pity!' Ted was deceptive. He was gentle and--all that, a
gentleman of course, and that disguised him; but underneath; what was
there--a regular ascetic, a fakir! And a sense of bewilderment, of
dealing with something which he could not grasp, beset Bob Pierson, so
that he went back to the table, and sat down again beside his port.

"It seems to me," he said rather gruffly, "that the chicken had better be
hatched before we count it." And then, sorry for his brusqueness,
emptied his glass. As the fluid passed over his palate, he thought:
'Poor old Ted! He doesn't even drink--hasn't a pleasure in life, so far
as I can see, except doing his duty, and doesn't even seem to know what
that is. There aren't many like him--luckily! And yet I love
him--pathetic chap!'

The "pathetic chap" was still staring at the flames.
3

And at this very hour, when the brothers were talking--for thought and
feeling do pass mysteriously over the invisible wires of space Cyril
Morland's son was being born of Noel, a little before his time.

PART III

I

Down by the River Wye, among plum-trees in blossom, Noel had laid her
baby in a hammock, and stood reading a letter:

"MY DEAREST NOLLIE, "Now that you are strong again, I feel that I must
put before you my feeling as to your duty in this crisis of your life.
Your aunt and uncle have made the most kind and generous offer to adopt
your little boy. I have known that this was in their minds for some
time, and have thought it over day and night for weeks. In the worldly
sense it would be the best thing, no doubt. But this is a spiritual
matter. The future of our souls depends on how we meet the consequences
of our conduct. And painful, dreadful, indeed, as they must be, I am
driven to feel that you can only reach true peace by facing them in a
spirit of brave humility. I want you to think and think--till you arrive
at a certainty which satisfies your conscience. If you decide, as I
trust you will, to come back to me here with your boy, I shall do all in
my power to make you happy while we face the future together. To