that was Louis Champney's, to clear either herself or her
state's-prison brat! Tell her that for me with my compliments on her
son's career.--And as for you, Octavius Buzzby, I'll repeat what you
said: I'm not blind and nobody else is in Flamsted, and I know, and
everybody here knows, that you've been in love with Aurora Googe ever
since my father took her into his home to bring up."

She knew that blow would tell. Octavius started as if he had been struck
in the face by the flat of an enemy's hand. He stepped forward quickly
and looked her straight in the eyes.

"You she-devil," he said in a low clear voice, turned on his heel and
left the room. He closed the door behind him, and felt of the knob to
see that he had shut it tight. This revelation of a woman's nature was
sickening him; he wanted to make sure that the library door was shut
close upon the malodorous charnel house of the passions. He shivered
with a nervous chill as he hurried down the hall and went upstairs to
his room in the ell.

He sat down on the bed and leaned his head on his hands, pressing his
fingers against his throbbing temples. Half an hour passed; still he sat
there trying to recover his mental poise; the terrible anger he had
felt, combined with her last thrust, had shocked him out of it.

At last he rose; went to his desk; opened a drawer, took out a tin box,
unlocked it, and laid the papers and books it contained one by one on
the table to inspect them. He selected a few, snapped a rubber about the
package and thrust it into the inner breast pocket of his coat. Then he
reached for his hat, went downstairs, left word with Ann that he was
going to drive down for the mail but that he should not be back before
ten, proceeded to the stable, harnessed the mare into a light driving
trap and drove away. He took the road to The Gore.

On approaching the house he saw a light in Aurora's bedroom. He drove
around to the kitchen door and tied the mare to the hitching-post. His
rap was answered by Ellen, a quarryman's daughter whom Mrs. Googe
employed for general help; but she spoke behind the closed door:

"Who is it?"

"It's me, Octavius Buzzby."

She drew the bolt and flung open the door. "Oh, it's you, is it, Mr.
Buzzby? I've got so nervous these last three weeks, I keep the door
bolted most of the time. Have you heard anything?" she asked eagerly,
speaking under her breath.

"No," said Octavius shortly; "I want to see Mrs. Googe. Tell her I