mistake there were, had
been all of her doing. Bravely she would take the bitter
consequences. Captain Frazer's day was passing fast. The night
remained for her talk with Weldon. Her eyes dropped back to the bed,
and her hand yielded itself to the pressure of the ice-cold fingers.

"Yes," she said slowly and so faintly that Weldon, standing
breathless, could scarcely hear the words; "I have cared for you, as
you have cared for me."

The fingers tightened over her hand; but the lids drooped heavily
above the dark blue eyes.

"Dearest--girl." Then, smiling to himself, Captain Leo Frazer fell
asleep. The next moment counted itself out by slow seconds. Then
Ethel raised her head and turned to smile drearily up at Weldon.

Instead, she found herself smiling up at an empty wall. Harvard
Weldon had vanished and had left for her no word of farewell.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Up Commissioner Street and down Commissioner Street and around and
around Market Square tramped a haggard man in khaki who surveyed all
things with dull, unseeing eyes. On his cheek, an inch or so above
his stubbly beard, was a wide cross of plaster, and his left wrist
wore a narrow bandage. He walked with quick, nervous strides; yet
every now and then he halted to rest for a moment. Then he hurried
on again, as if pursued by some unseen, but malignant foe.

Twice he turned northward and paused before the hospital, staring
irresolutely up at the lighted windows. Then, facing about abruptly,
he moved on, swiftly, but with the mechanical tread of a man in a
dream. Once he found himself resting on the steps of the Jewish
synagogue. The next time he roused himself to take note of his
surroundings, he was at the Berea Estate, following Hospital Hill
straight to the eastward. It was then that he had turned about and
faced back to the hospital. A scant half-dozen hours before, that
hospital had held what was all the world to him. Now, without
warning, that all had proved to be naught.

The blow had come crashing upon him, straight between the eyes and
so suddenly that there had been no time for him to brace himself to
meet it. From the moment of his facing Ethel in the doorway of the
hospital, that noon, he had been sure that the talk which he would
have with her, that evening, could bring but the one ending. At
sight of the soiled and haggard man before her, her blue eyes had
lighted with something far more than pleased surprise. His appearing
had been