camp like this and strutting about, the center
of all attention. Yet there were qualities in him which escaped her, a
possibility of metallic hardness, a pitiless fire of purpose.

To Lord Nick, he was as the bull terrier to the mastiff.

But above all she could not dislodge the memory of his strange talk with
her at Lebrun's. Not that she did not season the odd avowals of Donnegan
with a grain of salt, but even when she had discounted all that he said,
she retained a quivering interest. Somewhere beneath his words she
sensed reality. Somewhere beneath his actions she felt a selfless
willingness to throw himself away.

As she rode she was comparing him steadily with Lord Nick. And as she
made the comparisons she felt more and more assured that she could pick
and choose between the two. They loved her, both of them. With Nick it
was an old story; with Donnegan it might be equally true in spite of its
newness. And Nelly Lebrun felt rich. Not that she would have been
willing to give up Lord Nick. By no means. But neither was she willing
to throw away Donnegan. Diamonds in one hand and pearls in the other.
Which handful must she discard?

She remained riding an unconscionable length of time, and when she drew
rein again before her father's house, the black was flecked with foam
from his clamped bit, and there was a thick lather under the stirrup
leathers. She threw the reins to the servant who answered her call and
went slowly into the house.

Donnegan, by this time, was dead. She began to feel that it would be
hard to look Lord Nick in the face again. His other killings had often
seemed to her glorious. She had rejoiced in the invincibility of her
lover.

Now he suddenly took on the aspect of a murderer.

She found the house hushed. Perhaps everyone was at the gaming house;
for now it was midafternoon. But when she opened the door to the
apartment which they used as a living room she found Joe Rix and the
Pedlar and Lester sitting side by side, silent. There was no whisky in
sight; there were no cards to be seen. Marvel of marvels, these three
men were spending their time in solemn thought. A sudden thought rushed
over her, and her cry told where her heart really lay, at least at this
time.

"Lord Nick--has he been--"

The Pedlar lifted his gaunt head and stared at her without expression.
It was Joe Rix who answered.

"Nick's upstairs."

"Safe?"

"Not a scratch."

She sank into a chair with a sigh, but wa