paused again.

"Going! Where?" I asked.

"I don't know just yet. Away from here, from New York--at once."

"But I can't let you go without--"

He held up his hand and I paused.

"Don't talk, Roger," he said quickly. "Don't question and don't talk.
It won't do any good. I had hoped I shouldn't see you. I was
waiting--waiting until the lights went out."

"But I couldn't."

"Please!" he said quietly, and then went on.

"I was going to get some things and go during the night. Now you'll
have to help me. Tell Christopher to pack a bag--just a clean suit and
linen--and bring it here--And--and that's all." He held out his hand
with a sober smile. "Good-by, Roger," he finished.

"But I can't let you go like this."

"You've got to. Don't worry. I'm all right. I'm not going to make a
fool of myself--or--or drink or anything. I've got to be alone--to do
some thinking. I'll write you. Good-by."

"But Una! What shall I say?"

"Una!" He turned away and bent his head. "My God!" he said and then
repeated the words below his breath, almost like a prayer, and then,
turning, with a wild gesture, "Tell her anything, Roger. Say I'm all
right but I can't see her. Say I had a telegram--called West on a
Railroad matter--anything. Now go."

He caught me by the hand with a crushing grip while he pushed me
toward the door.

"You will not--?"

"I'm all right, quite. Don't fear for me. I'll come back--soon. Now
go, old chap. I'll wait for Christopher here. Hurry, please."

He spoke kindly but sharply. I could see that argument was of no
avail. His mind was made up and with Jerry that was final. Whatever
had happened--and from his appearance I suspected a soul-wrenching
struggle--he was at least for the present physically safe and entirely
sane. But it was with serious misgivings that I slipped past the
somnolent Jack and upstairs to Jerry's room, where I found Christopher
and together we packed a bag, descending by the back stairs, where I
took the bag from Christopher's hand and sent him to bed.

In a moment I was in the garage with Jerry.

"Oh, _you_--!" he frowned.

"Let me go with you at least as far as town," I pleaded.

"No," gruffly. "No one." He threw the bag into the car and clambered
quickly in.

"Here, your cap," I said, handing it to him. Our fingers met. He
grasped mine until they pained me.

"Forgive me, Roger. I don't mean to be unkind. You're too good to me."

"Jerry, you fool!" I cried, my eyes wet.