moment forgotten a necessary vigilance.

There was silence while the stranger thought over the
information just given him. Then he spoke again, with a new
touch of vehemence.

"So I imagined," he said. "Though, on my soul, I never really
credited it. To have gained so much, and to have thrown it
away for a common vice!" He made an exclamation of disgust.

Chilcote gave an unsteady laugh. "You judge hardly." he said.

The other repeated his sound of contempt. "Justly so. No man
has the right to squander what another would give his soul
for. It lessens the general respect for power."

"You are a believer in power?" The tone was sarcastic, but
the sarcasm sounded thin.

"Yes. All power is the outcome of individuality, either past
or present. I find no sentiment for the man who plays with
it."

The quiet contempt of the tone stung Chilcote.

"Do you imagine that Lexington made no fight?" he asked,
impulsively. "Can't you picture the man's struggle while the
vice that had been slave gradually became master?" He stopped
to take breath, and in the cold pause that followed it seemed
to him that the other made a murmur of incredulity.