s
peculiarly fitted to appreciate.

Leigh honestly meant to be the hundredth man, and to make a name for
himself. He had found what might be called an easy place in contrast
with the drudgery of the large classes he had previously taught. Here
was the time, here the problem. The lamp was trimmed, the white sheets
of paper were spread out invitingly on his desk. A few logs burned
brightly in the fireplace, dispelling the penetrating chill, and the
rain beat heavily against the windows, intensifying the distance of the
world and his own seclusion.

But now a face hovered between his eyes and the paper on his desk; then
the complete figure of the woman he loved came into view, pointing with
her small ivory cimeter another and more alluring road. As one may lie
and doze awhile in the morning, with a resentful realisation of the
impending duties of the day, so now he allowed himself ten minutes of
respite, only to discover presently that his allowance had lengthened
imperceptibly to an hour.

A knock at the door aroused him, and he shouted an invitation to enter,
thinking that Cardington had stepped across the hallway for a chat.
His surprise therefore was great when the door swung open and showed an
unknown man placing his dripping umbrella in the corner.

"I got your message, professor," the visitor began. Leigh was
instantly aware, above everything else, of the extraordinarily alert
glance which he flung into the room ahead of him as he entered. This
summed up his total first impression.

"Mr. Emmet!" he cried. "Come in. This is really too bad. I 'm afraid
Captain Tucker did n't give you the message correctly. I meant to call
upon you. He must have represented that I had some urgent
business--but I need n't say how I appreciate your coming, especially
on such a night."

"All kinds of weather are alike to me," Emmet answered heartily. "I
was up in this part of town, and thought I might better drop in and see
you than send a postal."

Now that he was seated, Leigh had a better opportunity for observation,
and his fuller impression was decidedly favourable. Emmet was
apparently about his own age, of medium height, with the shoulders and
bearing of an athlete. He possessed no strikingly fine feature, and
yet the whole man was handsome. One took no notice of the shape of his
nose or the line of his chin, for these points were neither excellent
nor the reverse. What gave him a claim to distinction abov