"Never felt better, didn't I just say so? You are a regular old hen,
Georgie K. You cluck at a fellow like a setting hen at one chicken."

Still Doctor Gordon's gloomy face, although he tried to be jocular, did
not relax. Going home late that night, or rather early next morning, he
laid his hand heavily on James's shoulder.

"Boy, I am about at the finish!" he groaned out.

"Now, see here, Doctor Gordon, can't I be of some assistance if you were
to tell me?" asked James. He passed his hand under the older man's arm,
and helped him through a snowdrift as if he had been his father. A great
compassion filled his heart.

But Gordon only groaned out a great sigh. "No," he said. "Secrecy is the
one shield I have. I don't say weapon, but shield. In these latter days
we try to content ourselves with shields; and secrecy is the strongest
shield on earth. If I were going to commit a crime, I should never even
intimate the slightest motive for it to any man living. I should trust
no man living to help me through with it."

James felt a vague horror steal over him. He tried to speak lightly to
cover it. "I trust there is no question of crime?" he said, laughing.

"Not the slightest," replied Gordon. "I have no intention to use a
weapon, but my shield I must stick to. Thank the Lord, you were awake
last night, and to-night Clemency is in another room. By the way, I have
bought a dog."