reproach--a sense of relief in the thought that perhaps his ancient debt
would now be cancelled. It had gone on so long. And Constantine Jopp
had never lost an opportunity of vexing him, of torturing him, of giving
veiled thrusts, which he knew O'Ryan could not resent. It was the
constant pin-prick of a mean soul, who had an advantage of which he could
never be dispossessed--unless the ledger was balanced in some inscrutable
way.

Apparently bent on amusement only, and hiding his hatred from his
colleagues, Jopp had been the instigator and begetter of the huge joke of
the play; but it was the brains of Dick Fergus which had carried it out,
written the dialogue, and planned the electric appliances of the back
curtain--for he was an engineer and electrician. Neither he nor Holden
had known the old antipathy of Terry and Constantine Jopp. There was
only one man who knew the whole truth, and that was Gow Johnson, to whom
Terry had once told all. At the last moment Fergus had interpolated
certain points in the dialogue which were not even included at rehearsal.
These referred to Apollo. He had a shrewd notion that Jopp had an idea
of marrying Molly Mackinder if he could, cousins though they were; and he
was also aware that Jopp, knowing Molly's liking for Terry, had tried to
poison her mind against him, through suggestive gossip about a little
widow at Jansen, thirty miles away. He had in so far succeeded that,
on the very day of the performance, Molly had declined to be driven home
from the race-course by Terry, despite the fact that Terry had won the
chief race and owned the only dog-cart in the West.

As the day went on Fergus realised, as had Gow Johnson, that Jopp had
raised a demon. The air was electric. The play was drawing near to its
climax--an attempt to capture the deputy sheriff, tie him to a tree, and
leave him bound and gagged alone in the waste. There was a glitter in