ently with a fallen rival after
this--disgrace. Of course, I quit the field; but--don't ride over me too
hard."

The doctor drew on his riding gloves with grave precision, put his hat
on his head, and took up his riding whip; then he turned toward Lamotte.

"I suppose you refer to Miss Wardour?" he said blandly.

"Of course."

"Then rest easy. I do not pretend in that quarter. Miss Wardour is yours
for all me; and--you are not such a fool as to think that she will let
your sister's affair alter her feelings for you--if she cares for you?"

Lamotte sprang up, staring with surprise.

"Why, but--Heath, you owned yourself my rival!"

"True."

"And--upon my word, I believe you were ahead of the field."

"True again; but--_I have withdrawn_." And Doctor Heath went out, closed
the door deliberately, and ran lightly down the stairs. He found Ray
Vandyck loitering on the pavement.

"I knew you would be down presently," said Vandyck, anxiously; "I want
to say, Heath, don't notice what I said to that cad. He maddened me;
above all, don't think that one word I uttered was intended to reflect
upon _her_."

"He has withdrawn," muttered Francis Lamotte, settling himself back as
comfortably as possible, and clasping his hands behind his head.

"And _he_ means what he says; something has happened in my absence; I
can't understand it, but it's so much the better for me."

CHAPTER XII.

THE BEGINNING OF THE END.

Saturday, Sunday, Monday, three days; three nights. The events
chronicled in the foregoing chapters, crowded themselves into the space
of three days.

But these were exceptional days; life does not move on thus, especially
in the usually staid and well regulated town of W----. Men and women are
not qualified to run a long, high pressure race. Action, and
then--reaction. Reaction from every emotion, every sorrow, every joy.
God help us.

We weep for days, but not for years. We suffer, but here and there comes
a respite from our pain. We live in a delirium of joy for a brief space,
and vegetate in dullness, in apathy, in hardness of heart, in
indifference, or in despair, according to our various natures, for the
rest of our natural lives. So let it be, it is the lot common to all.

"No man can hide from it, but it will find him out,
Nor run from it, but it overtaketh him."

After the robbery, after the flight, after the coming and departure of
the two detectives, dullness settled down upon o