ur of remembering.

"They took me away to a place in the country," he said, "but you know I
wasn't mad, Mr. Milburgh. _He_ wouldn't have had a fellow hanging round
him who was mad, would he? You're a clergyman, eh?" He nodded his head
wisely, then asked, with a sudden eagerness: "Did he make you a
clergyman? He could do wonderful things, could Mr. Lyne, couldn't he? Did
you preach over him when they buried him in that little vault in
'Ighgate? I've seen it--I go there every day, Mr. Milburgh," said Sam. "I
only found it by accident. 'Also Thornton Lyne, his son.' There's two
little doors that open like church doors."

Mr. Milburgh drew a long sigh. Of course, he remembered now. Sam Stay had
been removed to a lunatic asylum, and he was dimly conscious of the fact
that the man had escaped. It was not a pleasant experience, talking with
an escaped lunatic. It might, however, be a profitable one. Mr. Milburgh
was a man who let very few opportunities slip. What could he make out of
this, he wondered? Again Sam Stay supplied the clue.

"I'm going to settle with that girl----" He stopped and closed his lips
tightly, and looked with a cunning little smile at Milburgh. "I didn't
say anything, did I?" he asked with a queer little chuckle. "I didn't say
anything that would give me away, did I?"

"No, my friend," said Mr. Milburgh, still in the character of the
benevolent pastor. "To what girl do you refer?"

The face of Sam Stay twisted into a malignant smile.

"There's only one girl," he said between his teeth, "and I'll get her.
I'll settle with her! I've got something here----" he felt in his pocket
in a vague, aimless way. "I thought I had it, I've carried it about so
long; but I've got it somewhere, I know I have!"

"So you hate Miss Rider, do you?" asked Milburgh.

"Hate her!"

The little fellow almost shouted the words, his face purple, his eyes
starting from his head, his two hands twisted convulsively.

"I thought I'd finished her last night," he began, and stopped.

The words had no significance for Mr. Milburgh, since he had seen no
newspapers that day.

"Listen," Sam went on. "Have you ever loved anybody?"

Mr. Milburgh was silent. To him Odette Rider was nothing, but about the
woman Odette Rider had called mother and the woman he called wife,
circled the one precious sentiment in his life.

"Yes, I think I have," he said after a pause. "Why?"

"Well, you know how I feel, don't you?" said Sam Stay husk