her love for us. But on the day the father set his
choice upon me, she set hers upon you. You'll never know how I
suffered as a boy, when I saw the distance growing wider and wider with
the years. Perhaps the father understood, for he was always kind and
gentle to me. I expect to return to China shortly. The Andes has
taken me back. Sounds like a fairy-tale; eh? I shall never return
here. But did you know who Elsa Chetwood was?"

"Not until that letter came."

Neither of them heard the faint gasp which came from behind the
portieres dividing the study and the living-room. The gasp had
followed the invisible knife-thrusts of these confidences. The woman
behind those portieres swayed and caught blindly at the jamb. With
cruel vividness she saw in this terrible moment all that to which she
had never given more than a passing thought. No reproaches; only a
simple declaration of what had burned in this boy's heart. And she had
almost forgotten this son. A species of paralysis laid hold of her,
leaving her for the time incapable of movement.

She heard the deep voice of this other son say:

"Lots of kinks in life. There is only one law that I shall lay down
for you, Arty. You must give up all idea of marrying Elsa Chetwood."

"It will be easy to obey that. Are you playing with me, Paul?"

"Playing?" echoed Warrington.

"Yes. Do you mean to sit there and tell me that you don't know why I
shall never marry her?"

"Arty, I don't understand what you're talking about."

Arthur read the truth in his brother's eyes. He smiled weakly, the
anger gone. "Same old blind duffer you always were. I wrote an answer
to her letter. In that letter I told her . . . the truth."

"You did that?"

"I am your brother, Paul. I couldn't be a cad as well as a thief.
Yes, I told her. I told her more, what you never knew. I let Craig
believe that I was you, Paul. I wore your clothes, your scarf-pins,
your hats. In that I was a black villain. God! What a hell I lived
in. . . . Ah, mother!" Arthur dropped his head upon his arms again.

"Paul, my son!"

It was Warrington's chair that toppled over. Framed in the portieres
stood his mother, white-haired, pale but as beautiful as of old.

"I am sorry. I had hoped to get away without your knowing."

"Why?"

"Oh, because there wasn't any use of my coming at all. I'd passed out
of your life, and I should have stayed out. Don't worry. I've got
everything map