of
oblivion I know of. Don't live on. You are only a nuisance to
yourself, and a bad influence to the rest of the world. Succeed, or
make your little bow, my young friend. It is the best advice I can
give you. Remember that the men who have failed, and who live on, are
creatures of the gutter."

"You are right!" the boy muttered. "I have read that somewhere, and it
comes home to me. Failure is the one unforgivable sin. If I have to
commit every other crime in the decalogue, I will at least avoid that
one!"

Rochester shouldered his gun, and prepared to stroll off.

"At twelve o'clock to-morrow, then," he said. "I wouldn't hurry away
now, if I were you. Sit down in your old place, and see if there isn't
a thread of gold down there in the valley."

The boy obeyed almost mechanically. His heart was beating fast. His
back was pressed against the cold rock. The fingers of both hands were
nervously buried in the soft turf. Once more his eyes were riveted
upon this land of shifting shadows. The whole panorama of life seemed
suddenly unveiled before his eyes. More real, more brilliant now were
the things upon which he looked. The thread of gold was indeed there!

CHAPTER I

A LETTER PROVES USEFUL

Bertrand Saton leaned against the stone coping of the bridge, and
looked downwards, as though watching the seagulls circling round and
round, waiting for their usual feast of scraps. The gulls, however,
were only his excuse. He stood there, looking hard at the gray, muddy
water beneath, trying to make up his mind to this final and inevitable
act of despair. He had walked the last hundred yards almost eagerly.
He had told himself that he was absolutely and entirely prepared for
death. Yet the first sight of that gray, cold-looking river, had
chilled him. He felt a new and unaccountable reluctance to quit the
world which certainly seemed to have made up its mind that it had no
need of him. His thoughts rushed backwards. "Swim out to sea on a
sunny day," he repeated to himself slowly. Yes, but this! It was a
different thing, this! The longer he looked below, the more he shrank
from such a death!

He stood upright with a little shiver, and began--it was not for the
first time that day--a searching investigation into the contents of
his pocket. The result was uninspiring. There was not an article
there which would have fetched the price of a dose of poison. Then
his fingers strayed into a breast-pocket which he seldom us