d, it called for condign punishment and as God's
instrument he must mete it out. But he was a righteous man and must
first be certain. Therefore, he would not let her suspect his own
doubts. If she were dissembling he would dissemble, too, but to a better
end. In her this deceit was a sinful hypocrisy, but in him it would be
as virtuous as the care with which the prosecutor cajoles the criminal
into self-conviction. So he inquired with a reserved and indulgent
suavity, "Are you particularly fond of that poem, my dear?"

Conscience gazed pensively away beyond the hillside, where the heat
waves played, to the cool blue of the cove. Her manner impressed him as
preoccupied.

"It has beauty, I think, and in some respects a true psychology. It
recognizes that even straight-forward sin may be less ugly than
hypocritical virtue."

All the prejudices of the man's illiberal code arose snarling, but he
stifled their expression and, abandoning the immediate subject, turned
absently back to the title page. "'Stuart to Conscience,'" he read
reminiscently. "This book must be quite an old keepsake."

The Virginian's name had not been recently mentioned between them. There
had been no agreement, tacit or otherwise, to that effect, but the wife
had inferred that this was a topic which he was willing to have drop
with the lapse of time out of their conversation. If he recurred to it
now it must indicate that any vestiges of animus once entertained for
Farquaharson had died. That was rather pleasing and generous, she
thought.

"Yes, quite old," she responded with a smile.

Tollman nodded understandingly. A short while before he had been reading
his Providence newspaper and a brief paragraph, which would otherwise
have escaped his eye, had caught his attention like the red lantern at a
railroad crossing--because it contained the name of Stuart
Farquaharson. The lines were these: "'The Longest Way Round,' a comedy
in three acts, by Stuart Farquaharson, will have its premiere at the
Garrick Theater on Monday evening. After a road engagement the piece
will be presented to Broadway early in the fall. The cast includes--"
But Eben had not troubled about the cast. He was speculating just now
upon whether his wife had seen the item--and if so whether she would
speak of it.

"I wonder what has become of him," he suggested speculatively, and
Conscience shook her head as she answered, "It's been a long while since
I've heard of him."

If s