the Senator's nerve was
broken. They both knew it.

"At Gateway House, East Orange," he said sullenly. "I must tell you that
my--my brother is a dare-devil. Better leave me to----"

"I am glad you have told the truth," she interrupted. "She is not at
Gateway House now. Rex and a detective were there last night. There was
a fight. Your brother, a resourceful scoundrel evidently, carried her
off. You must find him and her. A train leaves for New York in half an
hour. Come back with me and help look for her. It will count toward your
regeneration."

He glanced at his watch abstractedly. He even smiled in a sickly way as
he said:

"You timed your visit well."

"Yes. A woman has intuition, you know. It takes the place of brains. I
shall await you in the hall. Now, don't be stupid, and think of
revolvers, and poisons, and things. You will end by blessing me for my
interference. Will you be ready in five minutes?"

She sat in the lounge, and soon saw some baggage descending. Then
Meiklejohn joined her. She went to the office and asked for a telegraph
form. The Senator had followed.

"What are you going to do?" he asked suspiciously.

"I'm wiring Rex to say that you and I are traveling to New York
together, and advising him to suspend operations until we arrive. That
will be helpful. You will not be tempted to act foolishly, and he will
not do anything to prejudice your future actions."

He gave her a wrathful glance. Mrs. Carshaw missed no point. A man
driven to desperation might be tempted to bring about an "accident" if
he fancied he could save himself in that way. But, clever as a mother
scheming for her son's welfare proved herself, there was one thing she
could not do. Neither she nor any other human being can prevent the
unexpected from happening occasionally. Sound judgment and astute
planning will often gain a repute for divination; yet the prophet is
decried at times. Steingall had discovered this, and Mrs. Carshaw
experienced it now.

It chanced that Mick the Wolf, lying in Gateway House on a bed of pain,
his injuries aggravated by the struggle with the detective, and his
temper soured by Rachel Craik's ungracious ministrations, found his
thoughts dwelling on the gentle girl who had forgotten her own sorrows
and tended him, her enemy.

Such moments come to every man, no matter how vile he may be, and this
lorn wolf was a social castaway from whom, during many years, all
decent-minded people had averte