edith will be at the
above address, and trusts by a careful attention to business to merit a
continuance of your kind patronage."

Durnovo laughed somewhat nervously. Oscard did not seem to hear.

"It is all very well for you," said the half-caste in a lower voice.
"You have not so much at stake. It is likely that the happiness of my
whole life depends upon this venture."

A curious smile passed across Jack Meredith's face. Without turning his
head, he glanced sideways into Durnovo's face through the gloom. But he
said nothing, and it was Oscard who broke the silence by saying simply:

"The same may possibly apply to me."

There was a little pause, during which he lighted his pipe.

"To a certain extent," he said in emendation. "Of course, my real
object, as you no doubt know, is to get away from England until my
father's death has been forgotten. My own conscience is quite clear,
but--"

Jack Meredith drew in his legs and leant forward.

"But," he said, interrupting, and yet not interrupting--"but the public
mind is an unclean sink. Everything that goes into it comes out tainted.
Therefore it is best only to let the public mind have the scourings, as
it were, of one's existence. If they get anything better--anything more
important--it is better to skedaddle until it has run through and been
swept away by a flow of social garbage."

Guy Oscard grunted with his pipe between his teeth, after the manner of
the stoic American-Indian--a grunt that seemed to say, "My pale-faced
brother has spoken well; he expresses my feelings." Then he gave further
vent to the deliberate expansiveness which was his.

"What I cannot stand," he said, "are the nudges and the nods and the
surreptitious glances of the silly women who think that one cannot see
them looking. I hate being pointed out."

"Together with the latest skirt-dancing girl, and the last female
society-detective, with the blushing honours of the witness-box thick
upon her," suggested Jack Meredith.

"Yes," muttered Guy. He turned with a sort of simple wonder, and looked
at Meredith curiously. He had never been understood so quickly before.
He had never met man or woman possessing in so marked a degree that
subtle power of going right inside the mind of another and feeling the
things that are there--the greatest power of all--the power that rules
the world; and it is only called Sympathy.

"Well," said the voice of Durnovo through the darkness, "I don't mind
ad