ster
again; he was going right on into the Doge's, too. Jim took charge of
him, receiving in return a glance from the pony that positively reeked
of malice.

Again Jack was on his way around the Doge's bungalow on the journey he
had made so many times in the growing ardor of the love that had mastered
his senses. The quiet of the garden seemed a part of the pervasive
stillness that stretched away to the pass from the broad path of the
palms under the blazonry of the sun. As he proceeded he heard the
crunching of gravel under a heavy tread. The Doge was pacing back and
forth in the cross path, fighting despair with the forced vigor of his
steps, while Mary was seated watching him. As the Doge wheeled to face
Jack at the sound of his approach, it was not in surprise, but rather in
preparedness for the expected appearance of another character in a
drama. This was also Mary's attitude. They had heard of his coming and
they received his call with a trace of fatalistic curiosity. The Doge
suddenly dropped on a bench, as if overcome by the weariness and
depression of spirits that he had been defying; but there was something
unyielding and indomitable in Mary's aspect.

"Well, Sir Chaps, welcome!" said the Doge. "We still have a seat in the
shade for you. Will you sit down?"

But Jack remained standing, as if what he had to say would be soon said.

"I have come back and come for good," he began. "Yes, I have come back to
take all the blue ribbons at ranching," he added, with a touch of garden
nonsense that came like a second thought to soften the abruptness of his
announcement.

"For good! For good! You!" The Doge stared at Jack in incomprehension.

"Yes, my future is out here, now."

"You give up the store--the millions--your inheritance!" cried the Doge,
still amazed and sceptical as he sounded the preposterousness of this
idea to worldly credulity.

"Quite!"

There was no mistaking the firmness of the word. "To make your fortune,
your life, out here?"

The Doge's voice was throbbing with the wonder of the thing.

"Yes!"

"Why? Why? I feel that I have a right to ask why!" demanded the Doge, in
all the majesty of the moment when he faced John Wingfield, Sr. in the
drawing-room.

"Because of a lie and what it concealed. Because of reasons that may not
be so vague to you as they are to me."

"A lie! Yes, a lie that came home!" the Doge repeated, while he passed
his hand back and forth over his eyes. The hand w