as he had cast aside his country. There were few ties to bind him to
England. He had become that unenviable member of a family--the black
sheep. He had run deeply into debt; a fact that had grievously told
against him when he had to face the accusations which had ruined his
career. In withdrawing from England he had probably left only two
friends, Sir Charles and Lady Martin, who would ever trouble to send
a kindly thought after him. His going had aroused the keenest
satisfaction in the breast of his brother, Sir Ralph Ellerey, tenth
baronet of the name, who was quite ready to believe the very worst
that was said of Desmond, remarking that it was little more than he
expected. Sir Ralph's cast of mind was perhaps narrow and ungenerous,
but, since the sympathy so usually shown to the open-handed spendthrift
was not forthcoming in this case, it must be assumed that popular
opinion condemned Desmond Ellerey, and sympathized with Sir Ralph. It
had been easy, therefore, for Desmond to become a stranger to his
native land; it was impossible for him to forget that he was an
Englishman: that a peculiar code of honor was demanded of him by the
fact.

The Altstrasse was deserted as he passed through it; the lights were
out in most of the houses, and silence was over the whole city. The
sky was black with clouds, giving promise of heavy rain before morning
if the wind dropped. Ellerey walked quickly, his ears alert, and his
eyes keenly searching every shadow on either side of him. Attacks in
the street for the purpose of plunder were of too general occurrence
to make a lonely walk in Sturatzberg safe or desirable at night, and
in this quarter of the city help would be slow in coming.

As he turned out of the Altstrasse, a woman, coming hastily in the
opposite direction, ran against him, and, with a faint cry, started