e has to lack something, so we'll make it
that'."

But Ellen, glancing up swiftly, saw that although his tone was light,
there was pain in his eyes.

He reflected on Edith's decision as he walked through the park toward
the Cardew house. It had not surprised him, and yet he knew it had cost
her an effort. How great an effort, man-like, he would never understand,
but something of what she had gone through he realized. He wondered
vaguely whether, had there never been a Lily Cardew in his life, he
could ever have cared for Edith. Perhaps. Not the Edith of the early
days, that was certain. But this new Edith, with her gentleness and
meekness, her clear, suffering eyes, her strange new humility.

She had sent him a message of warning about Akers, and from it he had
reconstructed much of the events of the night she had taken sick.

"Tell him to watch Louis Akers," she had said. "I don't know how near
Willy was to trouble the other night, Ellen, but they're going to try to
get him."

Ellen had repeated the message, watching him narrowly, but he had only
laughed.

"Who are they?" she had persisted.

"I'll tell you all about it some day," he had said. But he had told Dan
the whole story, and, although he did not know it, Dan had from that
time on been his self-constituted bodyguard. During his campaign
speeches Dan was always near, his right hand on a revolver in his coat
pocket, and for hours at a time he stood outside the pharmacy, favoring
every seeker for drugs or soap or perfume with a scowling inspection.
When he could not do it, he enlisted Joe Wilkinson in the evenings, and
sometimes the two of them, armed, policed the meeting halls.

As a matter of fact, Joe Wilkinson was following him that night. On
his way to the Cardews Willy Cameron, suddenly remembering the uncanny
ability of Jinx to escape and trail him, remaining meanwhile at a safe
distance in the rear, turned suddenly and saw Joe, walking sturdily
along in rubber-soled shoes, and obsessed with his high calling of
personal detective.

Joe, discovered, grinned sheepishly.

"Thought that looked like your back," he said. "Nice evening for a walk,
isn't it?"

"Let me look at you, Joe," said Willy Cameron. "You look strange to me.
Ah, now I have it. You look like a comet without a tail. Where's the
family?"

"Making taffy. How--is Edith?"

"Doing nicely." He avoided the boy's eyes.

"I guess I'd better tell you. Dan's told me about her. I--" Joe