temper, cost him what it might. He made his apologies, with
overstrained politeness, to Frank.

"Impossible to dispute such a right as yours," he said. "Perhaps
you will excuse me when you know that I am one of Miss Burnham's
old friends. My father and her father were neighbors. We have
always met like brother and sister--"

Frank generously stopped the apology there.

"Say no more," he interposed. "I was in the wrong--I lost my
temper. Pray forgive me."

Wardour looked at him with a strange, reluctant interest while he
was speaking. Wardour asked an extraordinary question when he had
done.

"Is she very fond of you?"

Frank burst out laughing.

"My dear fellow," he said, "come to our wedding, and judge for
yourself."

"Come to your wedding?" As he repeated the words Wardour stole
one glance at Frank which Frank (employed in buckling his
knapsack) failed to see. Crayford noticed it, and Crayford's
blood ran cold. Comparing the words which Wardour had spoken to
him while they were alone together with the words that had just
passed in his presence, he could draw but one conclusion. The