had forgotten herself in her
decision.

"I am--sure I am right, Gaston."

"And you refuse to tell me who has seen her?" A slow anger was mounting
in Gaston.

Before Drew could reply, a merry call from the hall smote both men into
dead silence.

"Ruthie! Ruth Dale, where are you? Come, let's go and see how things
look the morning after?"

Constance Drew had given Gaston his answer. By the magic of that name
she had connected the Past and the Present. The shock was tremendous,
but Gaston bore it with only a tightening of the lips to show the agony
he was enduring.

Presently an aimless question broke the unendurable stillness of the
room.

"Who--is--that, Drew?"

"Ruth Dale--your brother's widow."

"So--he is dead?" At such vital times in life, the mind leaps over
chasms of events, and takes much for granted.

"Yes; he died a year ago."

"How long--have you known, Drew--about him and me?"

"Only a few nights ago. He was my friend for a comparatively few
years--but he was--a dear friend!" Drew spoke as if defence were
necessary.

"I wonder--how much you _do_ know, Drew?" Gaston's face quivered. He
began to understand Joyce's soul-struggle.

"Everything, Dale," the name clung uncertainly upon the speaker's lips;
"everything--vital. Philip confessed--the week before he died."

Both men lowered their eyes. They dared not face each other for a
moment.

The fire crackled and the clock ticked. Every sense was sharpened and
quickened in Dale until it was painful.

Objects in the room stood out clearly to his uncaring sight; the snap of
the fire, the tick of the clock smote like separate reports upon his
hearing; and while he lived he was to recall, when he smelled burning
pine, this tense moment. Presently he rose unsteadily and reached out
for his coat and hat like a blind man.

"Well, Drew," he said, making an effort to speak evenly, "there doesn't
seem to be anything more to say. I am going. Good-bye."

"Dale--where are you going?" Drew was beside him.

"I'm going to try and find--Joyce Lauzoon."

"She--has--gone--to--her husband! He sent for her--and she went." Drew
spoke with an effort; but before the look on John Dale's face, he
staggered back. Hopeless rage, defeated desire blanched and fired in
turn the strong features. Then without a word Dale strode from the
room.

CHAPTER XX

John Dale went directly to his shack. What else was there for him to do
until he could find another tr