n expatiate his sin and
try to live a decent life, why shouldn't he be given the opportunity here
and now instead of in some mythical place among creatures of one's
fancy?"

"You didn't argue that way when you shot Charles Martin down, did you? He
was my friend; he had to--take his medicine!" Ledyard almost snarled out
these words. "He may have deserved his punishment for the lapses of his
life--but you were not the one to deal it. His family demand and should
have justice for him--I mean to see that they shall. Martin, for all his
folly was a genius, and gave to the world his toll of service. Why should
you, who gave nothing, escape at his expense?"

"Martin was no better, no worse, than I. He and I lived on the same plane
then; had the same interests. Had I not killed him, he would have killed
me. He swore that."

"But you took him--at a disadvantage, like the damned----" Ledyard
paused; he was losing his self-control. The calm, living face across the
table enraged him.

"I met him in the open; I did not know he was unarmed. I drew my pistol
in full view. A week before he had done the same; I escaped. No one
believed that when I told it at the trial. I had no witnesses; he had
many when I took my revenge."

"Who could believe you? What was your life compared with his?"

"Exactly. Perhaps that is why I--I kept running. Martin only dipped into
such lives as mine was then; he always scurried back to respectability
and honour; I grovelled in the mire and got stuck! When you get stuck you
get what the world calls--justice."

"I recall"--Ledyard's face was hardening--"I recall you always squealed.
You were always the wronged one; society was against you. Bah!"

Farwell sat unmoved under this attack.

"I'm not squealing now," he said quietly; "I am merely defending myself
as I can. That's the prerogative of any human being, isn't it? Why, see
here, Ledyard, there's one thing men like you never comprehend. On the
different stratas of life exactly the same passions, impulses, and
emotions exist; it's the way they're dealt with, how they affect people,
that makes the difference. Up where you live and breathe they love and
hate and take revenge, don't they? That's what happened down where I
wallowed and where Martin sometimes came--to enjoy himself!"

And now Farwell clutched his thin hands on the table to stay their
trembling as he went on:

"I loved--the woman in the case. That sounds strange to you, but it's the