uldn't he?"

"I don't know, John--and I don't care. If I should make up my mind to
go--remember, I said 'IF'--I'd go whether he liked it or not."

He HAD made up his mind--had made it up at the precise moment the
announcement of the bank's failure and St. George's probable ruin had
dropped from Gorsuch's lips--but none of this must Gorsuch suspect. He
would still be the doge and Virginius; he alone must be the judge of
when and how and where he would show leniency. Generations of Rutters
were behind him--this boy was in the direct line--connecting the past
with the present--and on Colonel Talbot Rutter of Moorlands, and on
no other, rested the responsibility of keeping the glorious name
unsmirched.

Todd, with one of the dogs at his heels, opened the door for him,
smothering a "Gor-a-Mighty!--sumpin's up fo' sho'!" when his hand
turned the knob. He had heard the clatter of two horses and their sudden
pull-up outside, and looking out, had read the situation at a glance.
Old Matthew was holding the reins of both mounts at the moment, for the
colonel always rode in state. No tying to hitching-posts or tree-boxes,
or picking up of a loose negro to watch his restless steed when he had a
stable full of thoroughbreds and quarters packed with grooms.

"Yes, Marse Colonel--yes, sah--Marse George is inside--yes, sah--but
Marse Harry's out." He had not asked for Harry, but Todd wanted him to
get all the facts in case there was to be another such scene as black
John described had taken place at the club on the occasion of the
colonel's last visit to the Chesapeake.

"Then I'll go in unannounced, and you need not wait, Todd."

St. George was in his arm-chair by the mantel looking over one of his
heavy ducking-guns when the Lord of Moorlands entered. He was the
last man in the world he expected to see, but he did not lose his
self-control or show in any way his surprise. He was host, and Rutter
was his guest; nothing else counted now.

St. George rose to his feet, laid the gun carefully on the table, and
with a cold smile on his face--one of extreme courtesy--advanced to
greet him.

"Ah, Talbot--it has been some time since I had this pleasure. Let me
draw up a chair for you--I'll ring for Todd and--"

"No, St. George. I prefer to talk to you alone."

"Todd is never an interruption."

"He may be to-day. I have something to say to you--and I don't want
either to be interrupted or misunderstood. You and I have known each