nineteen, and he went
out into the world with all his life before him. He was rich and
successful in every way, full of promise, brilliant. There was something
so splendid about him that he seemed somehow to belong to a higher
planet. He had never known failure or disgrace. But one night an evil
fate befell him. He was forced to fight--against his will; and--he killed
his man. It was an absolutely unforeseen result. He took heavy odds, and
naturally he matched them with all the skill at his command. But it was a
fair fight. I testify to that. He took no mean advantage."

Crowther's eyes were gazing beyond Avery. He spoke with a curious
deliberation as if he were describing a vision that hung before him.

"He himself was more shocked by the man's death than anyone I have ever
seen. He accepted the responsibility at once. There is a lot of nobility
at the back of that man's soul. He wanted to give himself up. But I
stepped in. I took the law into my own hands. I couldn't stand by and see
him ruined. I made him bolt. He went, and I saw no more of him for six
years. That ends the first chapter of the story."

He paused, as if for question or comment; but Avery sat in unbroken
silence. Her eyes also were fixed as it were upon something very far
away.

After a moment, he resumed. "Six years after, I stopped at Monte Carlo
on my way home, and I chanced upon him there. He was with his old
grandfather, living a life that would have driven most young men crazy
with boredom. But--I told you there was something fine about him--he
treated the whole thing as a joke, and I saw that he was the apple of the
old man's eye. He hailed me as an old friend. He welcomed me back into
his life as if I were only associated with pleasant things. But I soon
saw that he was not happy. The memory of that tragedy was hanging on him
like a millstone. He was trying to drag himself free. But he was like a
dog on a chain. He could see his liberty, but he could not reach it. And
the fact that he loved a woman, and believed that he had won her love
made the burden even heavier. So I gathered, though he had his intervals
of reckless happiness when nothing seemed to matter. I didn't know who
the woman was at first, but I urged him strongly to tell her the truth
before he married her. And then somehow, while we were walking together
one night, it came out--that trick of Fate; and in his horror and despair
the boy very nearly went under altogether. It was