"I have chosen to keep in touch with your--career, Berkley."

Berkley's upper lip again twitched unpleasantly; but, when at

length he spoke, he spoke more calmly than before and his mobile

features were in pallid repose.

"One of your brokers--Cone--stopped me. I was too confused to

understand what he wanted of me. I went with him to your

attorneys--" Like lightning the snarl twitched his mouth again; he

made as though to rise, and controlled himself in the act.

"Where are the originals of those letters?" he managed to say at

last.

"In this house."

"Am I to have them?"

"I think so."

"So do I," said the young man with a ghastly smile. "I'm quite

sure of it."

Colonel Arran regarded him in surprise.

"There is no occasion for violence in this house, Berkley."

"Where are the letters?"

"Have you any doubts concerning what my attorneys have told you?

The originals are at your immediate disposal if you wish."

Then Berkley struck the table fiercely, and stood up, as claret

splashed and trembling crystal rang.

"That's all I want of you!" he said. "Do you understand what

you've done? You've killed the last shred of self-respect in me!

Do you think I'd take anything at your hands? I never cared for

anybody in the world except my mother. If what your lawyers tell

me is true--" His voice choked; he stood swaying a moment, face

covered by his hands,

"Berkley!"

The young man's hands fell; he faced the other, who had risen to

his heavy six-foot height, confronting him across the table.

"Berkley, whatever claim you have on me--and I'm ignoring the

chance that you have none----"

"By God, I tell you I have none! I want none! What you have done

to her you have done to me! What you and your conscience and your

cruelty and your attorneys did to her twenty-four years ago, you

have done this day to me! As surely as you outlawed her, so have

you outlawed me to-day. That is what I now am, an outlaw!"

"It was insulted civilisation that punished, not I, Berkley----"

"It was you! You took your shrinking pound of flesh. I know your

sort. Hell is full of them singing psalms!"

Colonel Arran sat silently stern a moment. Then the congested

muscles, habituated to control, relaxed again. He said, under

perfect self-command:




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