irchild could
see faintly the still figure of a man outlined under the covers of an
old-fashioned four-poster.

"They--they--got him excited. He had another stroke. I--I could n't
stand it any longer."

"You 'd better get out," said Fairchild curtly to the Rodaines, with a
suggestive motion toward the stairs. They hesitated a moment and
Maurice seemed about to launch himself at Robert, but his father laid a
restraining hand on his arm. A step and the elder Rodaine hesitated.

"I 'm only going because of your father," he said gruffly, with a
glance toward Anita.

Fairchild knew differently, but he said nothing. The gray of Rodaine's
countenance told where his courage lay; it was yellow gray, the dirty
gray of a man who fights from cover, and from cover only.

"Oh, I know," Anita said. "It's--it's all right. I--I 'm sorry.
I--did n't realize that I was screaming--please forgive me--and go,
won't you? It means my father's life now."

"That's the only reason I am going; I 'm not going because--"

"Oh, I know. Mr. Fairchild should n't have come in here. He should
n't have done it. I 'm sorry--please go."

Down the steps they went, the older man with his hand still on his
son's arm; while, white-faced, Fairchild awaited Anita, who had
suddenly sped past him into the sick room, then was wearily returning.

"Can I help you?" he asked at last.

"Yes," came her rather cold answer, only to be followed by a quickly
whispered "Forgive me." And then the tones became louder--so that they
could be heard at the bottom of the stairs: "You can help me
greatly--simply by going and not creating any more of a disturbance."

"But--"

"Please go," came the direct answer. "And please do not vent your
spite on Mr. Rodaine and his son. I 'm sure that they will act like
gentlemen if you will. You should n't have rushed in here."

"I heard you screaming, Miss Richmond."

"I know," came her answer, as icily as ever. Then the door downstairs
closed and the sound of steps came on the veranda. She leaned close to
him. "I had to say that," came her whispered words. "Please don't try
to understand anything I do in the future. Just go--please!"

And Fairchild obeyed.

CHAPTER XI

The Rodaines were on the sidewalk when Fairchild came forth from the
Richmond home, and true to his instructions from the frightened girl,
he brushed past them swiftly and went on down the street, not turning
at the muttered invecti