ve I
felt, so without spirit, so utterly in Tom Burton's power. I have told
you something of his slimy plots, of his detestable innuendoes. He knew
of my loathing of the divorce courts, and my fear of scandal, no matter
how unfounded, and played upon them constantly, feeling sure that in the
end I would meet his demands."

"But that's all over, Nora," said Bat. "It all belongs to the past. Try
to forget it."

"I am going to forget it," she said. "Never doubt that I'm going to put
it away from me and never think of it again. I speak of it only because
I have something in my mind which recalls it strongly--as altogether
dissimilar things sometimes do. All men are not evil, Bat; I suppose I
have really known that always; but now the fact comes forward in my
mind and takes the place of the fear I have had for so long. Some men
are really very good, very kind and gentle. Some of them--perhaps only a
few--would sacrifice themselves to assure the security of one who was
unhappy and in trouble."

Bat Scanlon coughed and stirred in his chair.

"When did that idea come to you?" he asked.

"To-day," she replied; "just to-day, and----" But here she suddenly
stopped, and the man saw a startled look flash over her face. "But of
course," she resumed, hastily, "these things never come to us at the
time we first realize their presence. They are a growth, it is said, and
it takes time for them to make themselves known."

In spirit, Bat Scanlon felt himself sinking to the level of the
afternoon. "Sacrifice ... to assure the security of one who was unhappy
and in trouble." What did that mean? Nora had been in that position;
young Burton, according to the theory of Ashton-Kirk, had made just such
a sacrifice. Nora had been in a state of great agitation; she had
visited the prisoner just before his confession of guilt; and now she
was quieted, she was smiling and grateful!

The big man got up and walked the floor. She followed him with her
great, brown eyes.

"Bat," she said, "you are nervous. And, now that I look at you, you are
pinched and not of a good color." She lifted herself up upon one elbow,
and continued, accusingly: "You have been worrying! Confess!"

"I have," said he. "This matter of Burton's death has fastened itself
upon me tight; I can't shake it off."

"But," she said, "why should that be, unless"--and she paused while she
looked at him searchingly--"it is because of me?"

"It _is_ because of you," replied Scan