rees--a figure turned to stone. A faint cry, or the
wailing of a lost spirit! A sudden dizziness came over him, and he sat
down on one of the seats close at hand. There was a singing in his
ears, and a pain at his heart. He sat there with half-closed eyes,
battling with his weakness.

Presently he got up, and continued his journey. He found himself on
the doorstep of the shabby little house, and mechanically he passed in
and told the story of his day's efforts to the man who welcomed him so
eagerly. With his pocket-book in his hand he successfully underwent a
searching cross-examination, faithfully recording what one man had
said and what another, their excuses and their protestations. He made
no mistakes, and his memory served him amply. But when he had come to
the end of the list, and had placed the cheque-book in John Drage's
fingers, he felt that he must get away. Even his stoical endurance had
a measurable depth. But it was hard to escape from the man's most
unwelcome gratitude. John Drage had not the tact to recognize in his
benefactor the man to whom thanks are hateful.

"And I had no claim upon you whatever!" the sick man wound up,
half-breathless. "If you had cut me dead, after my Oxford disgrace, it
would only have been exactly what I deserved. That's what makes it so
odd, your doing all this for me. I can't understand it, I'm damned if
I can!"

Matravers stood over him, a silent, unresponsive figure, seeking only
to make his escape. With difficulty he broke in upon the torrent of
words.

"Will you do me the favour, Mr. Drage," he begged earnestly, "of
saying no more about it. Any man of leisure would have done for you
what I have done. If you really wish to afford me a considerable
happiness, you can do so."

"Anything in this world!" John Drage declared vehemently.

Matravers thought for a moment. The proposition which he was about to
make had been in his mind from the first. The time had come now to
put it into words.

"You must not be offended at what I am going to say," he began gently.
"I am a rich man, and I have taken a great fancy to your boy. I have
no children of my own; in fact, I am quite alone in the world. If you
will allow me, I should like to undertake Freddy's education."

A light broke across the man's coarse face, momentarily transfiguring
it. He raised himself on his elbow, and gazed at his visitor with
eager scrutiny. Then he drew a deep sigh, and there were tears in his
eyes.