ses, heard two voices: the one voice
shouted at him to search out Buddy and visit upon him the punishment
warranted by a base betrayal; the other told him jeeringly to lay the
scourge upon his own shoulders and endure the pain, since he had
betrayed himself. His mind was like a battle ground, torn, up-heaved,
obscured by a frightful murk--he remembered a night in France, a black
night of rumbling, crashing terror, when, as now, the whole world
rocked and tumbled. Some remnant of self-control induced him to lock
his door and pocket the key, for Buddy might come. He probably would
look him up, all grins and smirks and giggles, to tell him the glorious
news, to acclaim the miracle. That would be too much.

One thing was certain, there was no safety except in flight,
ignominious, cowardly flight... After all, how could Buddy have known?
He was a good boy, and he had shown his love, his loyalty, in a
thousand ways. Gray hated him at this moment, but, more bitterly even,
he hated himself. It was fate.... He fell to cursing aloud, but there
was no relief in that, and again the appalling irony of the situation
silenced him. He had deified himself, set himself upon a high place,
bent men and affairs to his own ends, until he had acquired a godlike
belief in his power to accomplish all things. His victory had been
complete. He had won all--except the one thing he most desired, the
very fruit of victory.

Some time later he heard Buddy come whistling merrily down the hall and
knock at his door. Gray cowered in his chair, listening in breathless
dread until the footsteps retreated. When he rose he moved about
stealthily.

When night came he took his bag and slunk out of the hotel, for it
seemed that men must surely know what a fool he had made of himself. It
would have been a relief to feel that he was leaving never to return;
but even that was denied him, for, after his first panic, the truth had
come home. He could not run away. He had forged chains for his own
limbs. Like a tethered mustang he could plunge only to the end of his
rope. Friendship, again! There was simple, trustful, faithful Gus
Briskow. And the bank. God, what a mess things were in! Gray knew he
would have to return, have to see "Bob" and Buddy day after day, month
after month, and the prospect was too distressing to dwell upon. Again
his mind grew weary, baffled; he experienced a wretched physical
illness... Where to go, where to hide until his sickness had p