committed a crime, and I'm living under an
assumed name. There is no such man as Robert Kater that I know of on
earth, nor ever was. My name is--no matter--. I'm going back to
the place where I killed my best friend--to give myself up--to
imprisonment--I do not know to what--maybe death--but it will end
my torture of mind. Now you know why I could not go to the Vernissage,
to be treated--well, I could not go, that's all. Nor could I accept
the honors given me under a name not my own. All the time I've lived
in Paris I've been hiding--and this thing has been following
me--although my occupation seems to have been the best cover I could
have had--yet my soul has known no peace. Always--always--night and
day--my own conscience has been watching and accusing me, an eye of
dread steadily gazing down into my soul and seeing my sin deep, deep
in my heart. I could not hide from it. And I would have given up
before only that I wished to make good in something before I stepped
down and out. I've done it." He put his hand heavily on Ben Howard's
shoulder. "I've had a revelation this night. The lesson of my life is
learned at last. It is, that there is but one road to freedom and
life for me--and that road leads to a prison. It leads to a
prison,--maybe worse,--but it leads me to freedom--from the thing
that haunts me, that watches me and drives me. I may write you from
that place which I will call home--Were you ever in love?"

The abruptness of the question set Ben Howard stammering again. He
seized Robert's hand in both his own and held to it. "I--I--I--old
chap--I--n--n--no--were you?"

"Yes; I've heard the call of her voice in my heart--and I'm gone. Now,
Ben, stop your--well, I'll not preach to you, you of all men,--but--do
something worth while. I've need of part of the money you got for
me--to get back on--and pay a bill or two--and the rest I leave to
you--there where you put it you'll find it. Will you live here and
take care of these things for me until my good aunt, Jean Craigmile,
writes you? She'll tell you what to do with them--and more than likely
she'll take you under her wing--anyway, work, man, work. The place is
yours for the present--perhaps for a good while, and you'll have a
chance to make good. If I could live on that money for a year, as you
yourself said, you can live on half of it for half a year, and in that
time you can get ahead. Work."

He seized his portmanteau and was gone before Ben Howard could