were
superhumanly strong, but then in spite of his conduct he could not in
his own mind grant that Stratton was mad. It was a case of what
coroners call "temporary insanity," due to some trouble which had been
kept hidden; and if there should be a struggle, Guest felt that he would
be more than a match for his friend, injured as he was.

Stratton was the first to speak, in a low voice, which suggested his
being faint and in great pain.

"Now I'm better. Will you go and leave me?"

Guest took a chair, and placing its back opposite to his friend, strode
across it, and rested his arms on the rail.

"Look here, Stratton, old fellow; I've always trusted you, and you've
always trusted me."

"Yes, of course," said Stratton hurriedly.

"Well, then, as your old chum--the man who has stuck to you and is going
to stick to you all through this hobble into which you have got
yourself--don't you think it would be as well to make a clean breast of
it--to me?"

Stratton's eyes dilated as he spoke, and his look was so strange that
Guest involuntarily prepared himself for some outbreak.

"You can trust me," continued Guest, and he saw a look of despair come
into his friend's countenance. "Come, old chap, what's the use of a
friend if he is not to help you? You know I want to."

Stratton's lips parted in an almost inaudible, "Yes."

"Well, then, for poor Myra's sake."

Stratton started as if he had been stung.

"I can't help hurting you, and I repeat--for her sake. She is a woman.
She loves you."

"For pity's sake, don't, don't," groaned Stratton in a voice full of
unutterable anguish.

"She loves you, I say," continued Guest firmly; "and, whatever has been
the cause of this madness, she will forgive you."

Stratton shook his head slowly.

"But I say she will. Come, we are none of us perfect. I tell you I am
fighting for you now as well as myself. Your act this morning injures
Edie and me too. So take it like this, old fellow. You have done wrong
in some way; is not an attempt to make amends the first step toward
showing repentance?"

"You don't know--you don't know," groaned the wretched man.

"Not yet; you will not be open. Come now, be frank with me. In your
utter despair, consequent upon your nerves being weak with mental worry,
you used that pistol."

Stratton buried his face in his hands.

"The old man was right," continued Guest; "it was a cowardly way to get
out of the difficulty. Let me hel