moment, this was beyond him. He felt himself lost,
toppling backward into an abyss, and the uselessness of his destruction
made him physically sick. For he need not have been there; he had not
wished to come; he had well counted the danger to himself, and this one
time in his life had gone to the cupola-room out of good-nature. But
Bareaud had been obstinate and Crailey had come away alone, hoping that
Jefferson might follow. And here he was, poor trapped rat, convicted
and ruined because of a good action! At last he knew consistency to be
a jewel, and that a greedy boy should never give a crust; that a fool
should stick to his folly, a villain to his deviltry, and each hold his
own; for the man who thrusts a good deed into a life of lies is
wound about with perilous passes, and in his devious ways a thousand
unexpected damnations spring.

Beaten, stunned, hang-jawed with despair, he returned her long,
dumfounded gaze hopelessly and told the truth like an inspired dunce.

"I came--I came--to bring another man away," he whispered brokenly; and,
at the very moment, several heavy, half-suppressed voices broke into
eager talk overhead.

The white hand that held the candle wavered, and the shadows glided in
a huge, grotesque dance. Twice she essayed to speak before she could
do so, at the same moment motioning him back, for he had made a vague
gesture toward her.

"I am not faint. Do you mean, away from up there?" She pointed to the
cupola-stairs.

"Yes."

"Have-have you seen my father?"

The question came out of such a depth of incredulousness that it was
more an articulation of the lips than a sound, but he caught it; and,
with it not hope, but the shadow of a shadow of hope, a hand waving from
the far shore to the swimmer who has been down twice. Did she fear for
his sake?

"No--I have not seen him." He was groping blindly.

"You did not come from that"

"How did you enter the house?"

The draught through the hall was blowing upon him; the double doors upon
the veranda had been left open for coolness. "There," he said, pointing
to them.

"But--I heard you come from the other direction."

He was breathing quickly; he saw his chance--if Jefferson Bareaud did
not come now.

"You did not hear me come down the stairs." He leaned toward her,
risking it all on that.

"Ah!" A sigh too like a gasp burst from Crailey. His head lifted a
little, and his eyes were luminous with an eagerness that was almost
angui