of the lady in whose behalf you have
exhibited such sudden interest?"

Keith's face paled and his nostrils dilated for a moment. He leant
slightly forward and spoke slowly, his burning eyes fastened on
Wickersham's face.

"Your statement would be equally infamous whether it were true or false.
You know that it is a lie, and you know that I know it is a lie. I will
let that suffice. I have nothing further to say to you." He tapped on
the edge of the glass again, and Dennison walked in. "Dennison," he
said, "Mr. Wickersham has agreed to my plans. He will go aboard the
Buenos Ayres boat to-night. You will go with him to the office I spoke
of, where he will acknowledge these papers; then you will accompany him
to his home and get whatever clothes he may require, and you will not
lose sight of him until you come off with the pilot."

Dennison bowed without a word; but his eyes snapped.

"If he makes any attempt to evade, or gives you any cause to think he is
trying to evade, his agreement, you have your instructions."

Dennison bowed again, silently.

"I now leave you." Keith rose and inclined his head slightly toward
Wickersham.

As he turned, Wickersham shot at him a Parthian arrow:

"I hope you understand, Mr. Keith, that the obligations I have signed
are not the only obligations I recognize. I owe you a personal debt,
and I mean to live to pay it. I shall pay it, somehow."

Keith turned and looked at him steadily.

"I understand perfectly. It is the only kind of debt, as far as I know,
that you recognize. Your statement has added nothing to what I knew. It
matters little what you do to me. I have, at least, saved two friends
from you."

He walked out of the room and closed the door behind him.

As Wickersham pulled on his gloves, he glanced at Dave Dennison. But
what he saw in his face deterred him from speaking. His eyes were like
coals of fire.

"I am waiting," he said. "Hurry."

Wickersham walked out in silence.

* * * * *

The following afternoon, when Dave Dennison reported that he had left
his charge on board the outgoing steamer, bound for a far South American
port, Keith felt as if the atmosphere had in some sort cleared.

A few days later Phrony's worn spirit found rest. Keith, as he had
already arranged, telegraphed Dr. Balsam of her death, and the Doctor
went over and told Squire Rawson, at the same time, that she had been
found and lost.

The next day Ke