ng waves of blackness encompassed him. He
staggered blindly forward, then sank into darkness--and for him time was
not.

When consciousness returned his eyes opened upon a glint of firelight, a
shaded lamp on a table by which sat a man with bent head writing. It was
a fine head, large and massive, the hair full and crisp. A rugged hand
grasped the pen with decision, and there was no hesitation in its rapid
movement.

The singer lay for a moment watching the bent head, when it suddenly
turned, and a pair of remarkably keen grey eyes met his own.

"Ah, you are better! That's right!" Rising, the writer went to a
cupboard against the wall, whence he brought a decanter and glass.

"I am a doctor," he said kindly. "Luckily I was handy, or you might have
had a bad fall."

The singer tried to rise.

"Don't move for a few moments," continued the doctor, holding a glass to
his lips. "Drink this, and you will soon be all right again."

The singer drank, and after a pause glanced inquiringly at his left
hand, which lay bound up at his side.

"Only a sprain," said the doctor, answering his glance. "I saw how it
happened. Scant thanks, eh?"

The singer sat up and his eyes flashed.

[Sidenote: "I want no Thanks!"]

"I wanted no thanks from her," he muttered bitterly.

"How is that?" questioned the doctor. "You knew the lady?"

"Yes, I knew her. The evil she has brought me can never be blotted out
by rivers of thanks!"

The doctor's look questioned his sanity.

"I fail to understand," he remarked simply.

"My name is Waldron, Philip Waldron," went on the singer. "You have a
right to my name."

"Not connected with Waldron the great financier?" again questioned the
doctor.

"His son. There is no reason to hide the truth from you. You have been
very kind--more than kind. I thank you."

"But I understood Waldron had only one son, and he died some years
ago--I attended him."

"Waldron had two sons, Lucien and Philip. I am Philip."

"But----"

"I can well understand your surprise. My father gave me scant
thought--his soul was bound up in my elder brother."

"But why this masquerade?"

"It is no masquerade," returned the singer sadly. "I sing to eke out my
small salary as clerk in a city firm. My abilities in that way do not
command a high figure," he added, with a bitter laugh.

"Then your father----?"

"Sent me adrift because I refused to marry that woman whose carriage I
stopped to-night."

The doctor