"Very good, sir!"

"Lock this door. Bring my coat and hat five minutes before the
carriage starts. Let the servants be well paid. Let none of them
attempt to see me."

The man bowed and disappeared. Left to himself, Mr. Sabin rose from
his chair, and pushing open the windows, stood upon the verandah.
He leaned heavily upon his stick with both hands, holding it before
him. Slowly his eyes traveled over the landscape.

It was a very beautiful home which he was leaving. Before him
stretched the gardens--Italian in design, brilliant with flowers,
with here and there a dark cedar-tree drooping low upon the lawn.
A yew hedge bordered the rose-garden, a fountain was playing in
the middle of a lake. A wooden fence encircled the grounds, and
beyond was a smooth rolling park, with little belts of pine
plantations and a few larger trees here and there. In the far
distance the red flag was waving on one of the putting greens.
Archie Green was strolling up the hillside,--his pipe in his mouth,
and his driver under his arm. Mr. Sabin watched, and the lines in
his face grew deeper and deeper.

"I am an old man," he said softly, "but I will live to see them
suffer who have done this evil thing."

He turned slowly back into the room, and limping rather more than
was usual with him, he pushed aside a portiere and passed into a
charmingly furnished country drawing-room. Only the flowers hung
dead in their vases; everything else was fresh and sweet and dainty.