m him.

"My dear fellow," he said at last; "but this is insanity!"

"Perhaps," West returned, unmoved. "They say every man has his mania.
This is mine, and it is a very harmless one. It won't hurt you to humour
it."

"But--good heavens!--have you thought of her?" Babbacombe exclaimed.

"I am thinking of her only," West answered quietly. "And I am asking you
to do the same, both now and after you have married her."

"And send you to perdition to secure her peace of mind? A thousand
times--no!" Babbacombe turned, and began to pace the room as though his
feelings were too much for him. But very soon he stopped in front of
West, and spoke with grave resolution. "Look here," he said, "I think
you know that her happiness is more to me than anything else in the
world, except my honour. To you it seems to be even more than that. And
now listen, for as man to man I tell you the truth. You hold her
happiness in the hollow of your hand!"

West's face remained as a mask; his eyes never varied.

"You can change all that," he said.

Babbacombe shook his head.

"I am not even sure that I shall try."

"What then?" said West. "Are you suggesting that the woman you love
should marry an ex-convict--a notorious swindler, a blackguard?"

"I think," Babbacombe answered firmly, "that she ought to be allowed to
decide that point."

"Allowed to ruin herself without interference," substituted West,
sneering faintly. "Well, I don't agree with you, and I shall never give
her the opportunity. You won't move me from that if you argue till
Doomsday. So, in heaven's name, take what the gods offer, and leave me
alone. Marry her. Give her all a good woman ever wants--a happy home, a
husband who worships her, and children for her to worship, and you will
soon find that I have dropped below the horizon."

He swung round again to the fire, and drove the poker hard into the
coals.

"And find another agent as soon as possible," he said; "a respectable
one this time, one who won't let you down when you are not looking, who
won't call you a fool when you make mistakes--in short, a gentleman.
There are plenty of them about. But they are not to be found in the
world's rubbish heap. There's nothing but filth and broken crockery
there."

He ended with his brief, cynical laugh, and Babbacombe knew that further
discussion would be vain. For good or ill the swindler had made his
decision, and he realised that no effort of his would alter it. To
at