iate deliberately is harassed under friendly guise of sympathetic
interest to bankruptcy and death. As sworn legal representative, trust
funds are misappropriated and retained through perjured accounting. To
insure immunity from prosecution and continued possession of stolen
estate, is planned the marriage between his son and defrauded ward. That
girlish opposition to such hateful union may be crushed occurs the
villainous conspiracy, involving remaining pittance of once princely
estate, William Dodge's unfortunate connivance, and Paul's murderous
assaults. This fearful category is followed by enforced concealments in
disreputable dens of poverty, disguised skulkings along unlighted
streets, furtive watches, deceitful ruses, scared embarkings for distant
ports, new schemes for wealthy alliance, horrible tableaus, attempts at
other murders, suspense of imprisonment, strange releases, and harassing
uncertainty, compelling renewed flight, resulting in purposeless return
of arch-criminals to scene of their most heinous crimes.

In this hunted maze, taxing every power of crafty, defensive vigilance,
yawns a new pursuing vortex. From such menacing depths may not the eye
withdraw nor step recede. This fearful presence is neither chimera of
transient nightmare nor creation of evanescent day-dream. Like
ever-present sprite, its boding menace pose shifts in accord with each
changing view and altered visual range.

Stunned by this shock, Pierre Lanier gropingly stumbles along the Thames
bank, following the drifting boat. Through all this bewilderment,
self-preserving interest guides his course. Keeping close watch of that
relaxed, dozing form, he recklessly tramples all impediments. Habitual,
calculating craft of years is merged in this all-absorbing zeal to
prevent indefinite exposure and contingent reckoning. It matters not
that Nemesis, keeping pace with his own course, rustles through
obstructing foliage. Crackling branches and pursuing footstep echoes are
unheeded by this new, engrossing fear.

By great effort Pierre has followed the boat for miles, only briefly
losing sight of his son. They are nearing the starting-point. Round a
small curve the boat drifts with the shifting current. Pierre spurts
forward to regain the lost view. Striking a grass-concealed bowlder, he
pitches forward, falling heavily upon the bank. By hard effort he
prevents rolling over into the stream. Regaining his feet, Pierre finds
that one leg is bad