shack and entered.

The little man had just finished shaving and was getting back into his
coat while George carried out the basin of water. And Donnegan, as he
buttoned the coat, was nodding slightly to the rhythm of a song which
came from the cabin of the colonel near by. It was a clear, high music,
and though the voice was light it carried the sound far. Donnegan looked
up to Lord Nick; but still he kept the beat of the music.

He seemed even more fragile this morning than ever before. Yet Lord Nick
was fresh from the sight of the torn bodies of the two fighting men whom
this fellow had struck and left for dead, or dying, as he thought.

"Dismiss your servant," said Lord Nick.

"George, you may go out."

"And keep him out."

"Don't come back until I call for you."

Big George disappeared into the kitchen and the outside door was closed.
Yet even with all the doors closed the singing of Lou Macon kept running
through the cabin in a sweet and continuous thread.

What made the ball so fine?
Robin Adair!
What made the assembly shine?
Robin Adair!

And no matter what Lord Nick could say, it seemed that with half his
mind Donnegan was listening to the song of the girl.

"First," said the big man, "I've broken my word."

Donnegan waved his hand and dismissed the charge. He pointed to a chair,
but Lord Nick paid no heed.

"I've broken my word," he went on. "I promised that I'd give you a clear
road to win over Nelly Lebrun. I gave you the road and you've won her,
but now I'm taking her back!"

"Ah, Henry," said Donnegan, and a flash of eagerness came in his eyes.
"You're a thousand times welcome to her."

Lord Nick quivered.

"Do you mean it?"

"Henry, don't you see that I was only playing for a purpose all the
time? And if you've opened the eyes of Nelly to the fact that you truly
love her and I've been only acting out of a heartless sham--why, I'm
glad of it--I rejoice, Henry, I swear I do!"

He came forward, smiling, and held out his hand; Lord Nick struck it
down, and Donnegan shrank back, holding his wrist tight in the fingers
of his other hand.

"Is it possible?" murmured Henry Reardon. "Is it possible that she loves
a man who despises her?"

"Not that! If any other man said this to me, I'd call for an explanation
of his meaning, Henry. No, no! I honor and respect her, I tell you. By
heaven, Nick, she has a thread of pure, generous gold in her nature!"

"Ah?"

"She has save