The eyes of both men crossed like swords, played with each other for a
moment, and then fixed to absolute determination. Cayley answered
doggedly: "I came to see your wife, because I'm not likely ever to see
her or you again. I wanted one look of her before I went away. There,
I'm open with you."

"It is well to be open with me," Houghton replied. He drew Cayley aside
to an opening in the trees, where the mountain and the White Bluff road
could be seen, and pointed. "That would make a wonderful leap," he said,
"from the top of the hill down to the cliff edge--and over!"

"A dreadful steeplechase," said Cayley.

Houghton lowered his voice. "Two people have agreed to take that fence."

Cayley frowned. "What two people?"

"My wife and I"

"Why?"

"Because there has been a mistake, and to live is misery."

"Has it come to that?" Cayley asked huskily. "Is there no way--no
better way? Are you sure that Death mends things?" Presently he put his
hand upon Houghton's arm, as if with a sudden, keen resolve. "Houghton,"
he said, "you are a man--I have become a villain. A woman sent me once
on the high road to the devil; then an angel came in and made a man of me
again; but I lost the angel, and another man found her, and I took the