n Landis, she'll hate you, my boy, as if you were a
snake. But if she knows that after all you were forced into the fight,
and that you took the first opportunity to bring Jack into
my--er--paternal care--her sentiments may change. No, they will
change."

Donnegan left his chair and began to pace the floor. He was no more
self-conscious in the presence of the colonel than a man might be in the
presence of his own evil instincts. And it was typical of the colonel's
insight that he made no attempt to influence the decision of Donnegan
after this point was reached. He allowed him to work out the matter in
his own way. At length, Donnegan paused.

"What's the next step?" he asked.

The colonel sighed, and by that sigh he admitted more than words could
tell.

"A reasonable man," he said, "is the delight of my heart. The next step,
Donnegan, is to bring Jack Landis to this house."

"Tush!" said Donnegan. "Bring him away from Lebrun? Bring him away from
the tigers of Lord Nick's gang? I saw them at Milligan's place tonight.
A bad set, Colonel Macon."

"A set you can handle," said the colonel, calmly.

"Ah?"

"The danger will in itself be the thing that tempts you," he went on.
"To go among those fellows, wild as they are, and bring Jack Landis away
to this house."

"Bring him here," said Donnegan with indescribable bitterness, "so that
she may pity his wounds? Bring him here where she may think of him and
tend him and grow to hate me?"

"Grow to fear you," said the colonel.

"An excellent thing to accomplish," said Donnegan coldly.

"I have found it so," remarked the colonel, and lighted a cigarette.

He drew the smoke so deep that when it issued again from between his
lips it was a most transparent, bluish vapor. Fear came upon Donnegan.
Not fear, surely, of the fat man, helpless in his invalid's chair, but
fear of the mind working ceaselessly behind those hazy eyes. He turned
without a word and went to the door. The moment it opened under his
hand, he felt a hysterical impulse to leap out of the room swiftly and
slam the door behind him--to put a bar between him and the eye of the
colonel, just as a child leaps from the dark room into the lighted and
closes the door quickly to keep out the following night. He had to
compel himself to move with proper dignity.

When outside, he sighed; the quiet of the night was like a blessing
compared with the ordeal of the colonel's devilish coldness. Macon's
advice had