owards the drawer. There should be no more
weak delay. If a thing were to be done, 'twere well it were done
quickly.

The horror of a great fear fell upon him. Again his hand had fallen, and
this time he was powerless to lift it up!

The hours passed and he sat helpless, bound in that awful chain of
frozen horror. In vain he struggled in a wild rage for freedom. No
muscle stirred. Where was his boasted will power now? Hand and foot,
faithful, uncomplaining slaves for so many years, had rebelled at last!

His brain seemed on fire and the flashing thoughts blinded him with
their glare. The letters rose from their sepulchre and, clothed in the
majesty of a dead man's faith, looked at him with an awful reproach,
until his very soul bowed in the dust with shame. His will still lay
upon the desk, open at the paragraph "to my dear niece, Evadne," and the
words "in trust," like red hot irons, branded him a felon in the sight
of God and men!

He remembered having once read a quotation from a great writer,--"When
God says, 'You must not lie and you do lie, it is not possible for Deity
to sweep his law aside and say--'No matter.'" Did God make no allowances
for the nineteenth century?

The others returned from the Festival, and Louis passed the door
whistling. He had had a rare evening of pleasure with Evadne. Towards
its close, under cover of the rolling harmonies, he had leaned over and
whispered "I love you, dear!" and Evadne had held out her hand to him
with the low pleading cry, "Oh, Louis, if you really do, then set me
free!" but he had only smiled and taken the hand, on which his ring was
gleaming, into his, and settled his arm more securely upon the back of
her chair; and John Randolph, sitting opposite with Dick and Miss Diana,
had watched the little scene and drawn his own conclusions with a sigh.

The night drew on. The electric lights which it was Judge Hildreth's
fancy to have ablaze in every room downstairs until the central current
was shut off, still gleamed steadily upon the rigid figure before the
desk, with the white, drawn face and the awful look of horror in its
staring eyes. In an agony he tried to call, but no sound escaped the
lips, set in a sphinx-like silence.

He must shake off this strange lethargy. It was not possible for him to
die--he had not time. To-morrow was the meeting of the Panhattan
directors--they were relying upon him to work through the second call on
stock--and two of his notes fe