ret-service
men following me ever since I returned from Roya-Neh. They are into
everything that I've ever been connected with; there is no institution,
no security in which I am interested, that they have not investigated.

"And I tell you also, incredible as it may sound, that there is no
security in which I am interested which is not now being attacked by
government officials, and which, as a result of such attacks, is not
depreciating daily. I tell you they've even approached the United States
Court for its consent to a ruinous disposal of certain corporation notes
in which I am interested! Will you tell me what you think of that,
Mallett?"

Duane said: "I don't know, Dysart. I know almost nothing about such
matters. And--I am sorry that you are in trouble."

The silence remained unbroken for some time; then Dysart stood up:

"I don't offer you my hand. You took it once for my father's sake.
That was manly of you, Mallett.... I thought perhaps I might lighten
your anxiety about your father. I hope I have.... And I must ask
your pardon for pressing my private affairs upon you"--he laughed
mirthlessly--"merely because I'd rather you didn't think me a crook--for
my father's sake.... Good-night."

"Dysart," he said, "why in God's name have you behaved as you have
to--that girl?"

Dysart stood perfectly motionless, then in a voice under fair control:

"I understand you. You don't intend that as impertinence; you're a
square man, Mallett--a man who suffers under the evil in others. And
your question to me meant that you thought me not entirely hopeless;
that there was enough of decency in me to arouse your interest. Isn't
that what you meant?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Well, then, I'll answer you. There isn't much left of me; there'll be
less left of my fortune before long. I've made a failure of everything,
fortune, friendship, position, happiness. My wife and I are separated;
it is club gossip, I believe. She will probably sue for divorce and get
it. And I ask you, because I don't know, can any amends be made to--the
person you mentioned--by my offering her the sort and condition of man I
now am?"

"You've got to, haven't you?" asked Duane.

"Oh! Is that it? A sort of moral formality?"

"It's conventional; yes. It's expected."

"By whom?"

"All the mess that goes to make up this compost heap we call society....
I think she also would expect it."

Dysart nodded.

"If you could make her happy it would squ