servitude."

Like an echo from that pent-up murmur of feeling which had rippled
through the crowded court many years ago, his little group of auditors
almost gasped as Lovell left his place and strolled down the room.
Aynesworth laid his hand upon his shoulder.

"All the time," he said, "you were looking at that calendar! Why?"

Lovell once more faced them. He was standing with his back to a round
table, strewn with papers and magazines.

"It was the date," he said, "and the fact that I must leave England
within a few hours, which forced this story from me. Tomorrow Wingrave
will be free! Listen, Aynesworth," he continued, turning towards him,
"and the rest of you who fancy that it is I who am leaving a humdrum
city for the world of tragedies! I leave you the legacy of a greater
one than all Asia will yield to me! Lady Ruth is married to Lumley,
and they hold today in London a very distinguished social position.
Tomorrow Wingrave takes a hand in the game. He was once my friend; I
was in court when he was tried; I was intimately acquainted with the
lawyer's clerk who had the arrangement of his papers. I know what no
one else breathing knows. He is a man who never forgives; a man who
was brutally deceived, and who for years has had no other occupation
than to brood upon his wrongs. He is very wealthy indeed, still young,
he has marvelous tenacity of purpose, and he has brains. Tomorrow he
will be free!"

Aynesworth drew a little breath.