ouragement. It was your punishment.
You were to go to her."

"I don't believe it," Douglas declared hotly.

"Then you don't believe me," Rice said quietly, "for on my honour I tell
you that I have seen the letter."

Douglas leaned his head upon his hand.

"I'm sorry," he said, wearily. "I believe absolutely in you, but I
believe also in her. There must be some misunderstanding."

Rice rose up. Douglas had paid the bill long ago. A waiter, overcome
with the munificence of his tip, brought them their hats and preceded
them, smiling, to the door. They passed out into the street, and the
fresh air was grateful to them both. Rice passed his arm through his
companion's.

"I want you to give me just an hour," he said--"no more."

Douglas nodded, and they made their way through a maze of squares and
streets southwards. At last Rice stopped before a house in a terrace of
smoke-begrimed tenements, and led the way inside. They mounted flight
after flight of stairs, pausing at last before a door on the topmost
floor. Rice threw it open, and motioned his companion to follow him in.

It was a small chamber, bare and gaunt, without ornament or luxury,
without even comfort. The furniture was the poorest of its sort, the
scrap of carpet was eked out with linoleum from which the pattern had
long been worn. There was only one thing which could be said in its
favour--the room was clean. Rice leaned against the mantelpiece,
watching his companion's face.

"My friend," he said, "I have brought you here because I wanted you to
see my home. Shall I tell you why? Because it is exactly typical of my
life. Bare and empty, comfortless, with never a bright spot nor a ray
of hope. There is nothing here to dazzle you, is there? All that you
can remark in its favour is that it is tolerably clean--all in my life
that I can lay claim to is that I have managed to preserve a moderate
amount of self-respect. This is my life, my present and my future. I
wanted you to see it."

Douglas was puzzled. He scarcely knew what to say, but instinctively he
felt that Rice's purpose in bringing him here had not yet been
explained. So he waited.

"I have told you," Rice continued, "of Drexley and of poor young
Silverton. I have told you that there have been many others. I have
told you that she even tried to do you ill that you might be numbered
amongst her victims. Now I tell you what as yet I have told no man. I,
too, was once the most pitiful of her sl