h a half-frightened look in her eyes, her face pale, and her hands
clasped before her, he did not speak for a minute. Suddenly, however, he
seemed to tower over her, his two big hands were raised as though they
would strike, and then the palms spread out and enclosed her cheeks
lovingly, and his eyes fastened upon hers.

"I know," he said gently. "I always understood--everything; but
you'll never have the same fight again, because I'll be with you. You
understand, Fleda--I'll be with you."

With an exclamation of gratitude she nestled into his arms.

Before the thrill of his embrace had passed from their pulses, they
heard the breaking of twigs under a quick footstep, and Rhodo stood
before them. "Come," he said to Fleda. His voice was as solemn and
strange as his manner. "Come!" he repeated peremptorily.

Fleda sprang to his side. "Is it my father? What has happened?" she
cried.

The old man waved her aside, and pointed toward the house.

CHAPTER XXVI. THE SLEEPER

The Ry of Rys sat in his huge armchair, his broad-brimmed hat on his
knee in front of him. One hand rested on the chair-arm, the other
clasped the hat as though he would put it on, but his head was fallen
forward on his breast.

It was a picture of profound repose, but it was the repose of death.
It was evident that the Ry had prepared to leave the house, had felt a
sudden weakness, and had taken to his chair to recover himself. As was
evident from the normal way in which his fingers held his hat, and his
hand rested on the chair-arm, death had come as gently as a beam of
light. With his stick lying on the table beside him, and his hat on his
knee, he was like one who rested a moment before renewing a journey.
There could not have been a pang in his passing. He had gone as most
men wish to go--in the midst of the business of life, doing the usual
things, and so passing into the sphere of Eternity as one would go
from this room to that. Only a few days before had he yielded up his
temporary position as chief constable, and had spent almost every hour
since in conference with Rhodo. What he had planned would never be known
to his daughter now. It was Rhodo himself who had found his master with
head bowed before the Master of all men.

Before Fleda entered the room she knew what awaited her; a merciful
intuition had blunted the shock to her senses. Yet when she saw the Ry
on his throne of death a moan broke from her lips like that of one who
se