am
happy, Garry. Heaven knows it. And you don't doubt it, do you, old
fellow?"

"Ah," said Donnegan, and he smiled to cover a touch of sadness. "I hope
not. No, I don't doubt you, of course. I've spent my life wishing for
you since you left us, you see. And then I followed you for three years
on the road, hunting everywhere."

"You did that?"

"Yes. Three years. I liked the careless life. For to tell you the truth,
I'm not worth much, Henry. I'm a loafer by instinct, and--"

"Not another word." There were tears in the eyes of Lord Nick, and he
frowned them away. "Confound it, Garry, you unman me. I'll be weeping
like a woman in a minute. But now, sit down. We still have some things
to talk over. And we'll get to a quick conclusion."

"Ah, yes," said Donnegan, and at the emotion which had come in the face
of Lord Nick, his own expression softened wonderfully. A light seemed to
stand in his face. "We'll brush over the incidentals. And everything is
incidental aside from the fact that we're together again. They can
chisel iron chain apart, but we'll never be separated again, God
willing!" He looked up as he spoke, and his face was for the moment as
pure as the face of a child--Donnegan, the thief, the beggar, the liar
by gift, and the man-killer by trade and artistry.

But Lord Nick in the meantime was looking down to the floor and
mustering his thoughts.

"The main thing is entirely simple," he said. "You'll make one
concession to my pride, Garry, boy?"

"Can you ask me?" said Donnegan softly, and he cast out his hands in a
gesture that offered his heart and his soul. "Can you ask me? Anything I
have is yours!"

"Don't say that," answered Lord Nick tenderly. "But this small thing--my
pride, you know--I despise myself for caring what people think, but I'm
weak. I admit it, but I can't help it."

"Talk out, man. You'll see if there's a bottom to things that I can
give!"

"Well, it's this. Everyone knows that I came up here to get young Jack
Landis and bring him back to Lebrun's--from which you stole him, you
clever young devil! Well, I'll simply take him back there, Garry; and
then I'll never have to ask another favor of you."

He was astonished by a sudden silence, and looking up again, he saw that
Donnegan sat with his hand at his breast. It was a singularly feminine
gesture to which he resorted. It was a habit which had come to him in
his youth in the invalid chair, when the ceaseless torment of his
crip