THUS cruelly disabused of his hopes, Dick Colton went fishing. But his heart was not in the sport. Absentmindedly he made up a cast of flies and spent an hour of fruitless whipping before it dawned upon him that he had been using a scarlet ibis and a white miller in a blaze of direct sunshine. Having changed to a carefully prepared leader of grey and black hackles, he had better luck; but for the first time in his life successful angling had lost its savour. Laying aside his rod, he climbed a hillock to look over the landscape. It was a blank. Nowhere in the range of vision could he discern a butterfly net. The rock where he had spread his coat suggested a seat. He sat down there, and for one solid hour proved with irrefutable logic that that which was, couldn't possibly be so, because he had known Dolly Ravenden only two days. Having attained this satisfactory conclusion, he took out the twenty-dollar bill and regarded it with miserly fervour. Haynes, coming over the hill, caused a hasty withdrawal of currency.

The reporter seemed tired and worried. In answer to the physician's inquiry whether anything new had developed, he shook his head. Colton dismissed that subject, and with his accustomed straightforwardness went on to another, upon which he had been deliberating with an uneasy mind.

“Mr. Haynes,” he said, “I want to speak to you on rather a difficult subject.”

The reporter looked at him keenly. “Most difficult subjects are better let alone,” he said shortly.

“In fairness to you I can't let this one alone. It concerns Miss Johnston.”

“Whom you have known since Monday, I believe.” Haynes' face was disagreeable.

“Pardon me,” said the other. “My interest is in my brother.”

“I can't pretend to share it,” returned Haynes.

“His name is Everard Colton. Do you know him?”

“Perhaps when I tell you that I know something of your family's entirely unnecessary solicitude as to Miss Johnston, you will appreciate the bad taste of pursuing the subject,” said Haynes.

Dick's equable temper and habituated self-control stood him in good stead now.

“I am regarding you as standing in the place of Helga Johnston's brother,” he said.

“Are you appealing to me for help in your family affairs?” asked the reporter rather contemptuously.

“I am trying to be as frank with you as I should like you to be with me,” returned the other steadily. “I want your consent to my sending for Everard to come down here.”

Haynes stared at him, amazed. “What do you mean by that?”

“Exactly what I say. There have been some hotheaded and unfortunate judgments on the part of my family, which report has greatly magnified. I realise now the full extent of the error.”

“And what has brought about this change of heart?” sneered the other.

“My acquaintance with Miss Johnston. There are some women who carry the impress of fineness and of character in their faces and their smallest actions. Even if I had learned nothing else about her, after seeing Helga Johnston I would think it an honour for any family to welcome her.”

Haynes' face softened, but it still was with some harshness that he said: “There are other Coltons who think otherwise.”

“That is because they don't know,” was the quick reply. “I want Everard to have his chance, and I've put this case before you because I know and respect your relation to Miss Johnston, and because I believe it is your right.”

“Yes, you're fair about it,” said Haynes, and fell into deep thought.

“Of course,” said Dick uneasily, “if having Everard here is going to be—er—painful to you, I won't ask him. I should have thought of that first. I don't know that Everard would have a chance anyway.”

“Dr. Colton, I believe that Helga did care for your brother.”

“But is it an open field?” asked Dick impulsively.

A slight smile appeared on Haynes' lined face. “You mean, do I want to marry Helga myself? She has never thought of me in that way. In a way it would be painful, yet I should be glad to know, while I have time, that she was going to marry some good man—but not any man whose family could not accept her as she deserves.”

“While you have time,” said the young physician slowly. “While you have——” He broke off, advanced a step and peered into the other's face. Haynes bore the scrutiny with a grim calmness.

As Colton scrutinised, the harsh lines that he had translated into irritable temperament leaped forth into the terrible significance of long-repressed pain.

“I don't want to be professionally intrusive,” said the young doctor slowly, “but I think—I'm afraid—I know what you mean.”

“Ah, I see you are something of a diagnostician,” said Haynes quietly.

“How long has it been going on?”

“Nearly a year. It's just behind the left armpit. Rather an unusual case, I believe. You see, i'm not on the lists as a marrying man.”

Colton walked to and fro on the little level stretch, half a dozen times. He had seen sickness and suffering in its most helpless forms; but this calm acceptance of fate affected him beyond his professional bearing.

“Do your people know?”

“I have no people. It hasn't seemed worth while to mention it to my friends. So you will regard this as a professional confidence?”

“Oh, look here!” burst out Colton. “I can't sit around and watch this go on. I've got more money than I can rightly use. You don't know me much, and you don't like me much, but try to put that aside. Let me pay your——” he glanced at Haynes and swiftly amended—“let me lend you enough to take you abroad for a year. I'll write to some people in Vienna and Berlin. They're away ahead of us in cancerous affections. I'd go with you, only——”

He stopped short, as he realised that the controverting reason was Miss Dorothy Ravenden's presence on the American side of the ocean.

The reporter walked over and put his hand on Colton's shoulder. His harsh voice softened to something of the tone that he used toward Helga, as he said: “My dear Colton, all the money in the world won't do it. If it would, well,” with a sudden, rare smile, “I'm not sure I wouldn't take yours, provided I needed it.”

“Try it,” urged the other. “You don't know how much those foreign experts may help you.”

Haynes shook his head. “O, terque quaterque beati, queis ante ora patrum contigit oppetere,” he quoted. “That's one of my few remnants of Virgil. It means a great deal to me. I shall not die in exile. Well, Colton, send for your brother.”

“And what will you do?”

“Stay here and work. There's something in life besides pain when inexplicable strokes from the void kill men and sheep. I'm going over to do some more investigating.”

“And I to wire my brother,” said Colton.

“Don't forget that 'The Wonderful Whalley' is to give his exhibition this evening.”

They met at dinner, and before they had finished the juggler was announced. The whole party joined him outside, where he had been arranging his simple paraphernalia. Running to Helga, he dropped on his knee in exaggerated and theatrical courtliness.

“Mademoiselle, I am your adoring slave for always,” he said, lifting his brilliant, unsteady eyes to her for a moment. “Weeth your kind permission I exheebit my powers.”

He led them to the barnyard, where there was a favourable open space, and began with some simple acrobatics. His audience was Mr. and Mrs. Johnston, Helga, Haynes, Colton, and the servants. Professor Ravenden and his daughter had not returned. After the acrobatics came sleight-of-hand with cards and handkerchiefs.

“Now I show you ze real genius,” said the performer.

From his belt he drew the two heavy blades which had so interested Haynes. These he supplemented with smaller knives, until he held half a dozen in hand. Facing the great barn door, he dexterously slanted a card into the air. As it rose he poised one of the smaller knives. Down came the card, paralleling the surface of the door. Swish! The knife shot through the air and nailed the card to the wood. Another card flew. Thud! It was pinned fast. A third, less accurately reckoned, fluttered by one corner.

“Now, ze ace of hearts!” cried the juggler. “We shall face it.”

Forward he flipped it. It turned in air, showing the central spot. It struck the door at a slight angle and was about turning when the knife met it Straight through the single heart passed the blade. “The Wonderful Whalley” struck an attitude.

“Well, by Jove!” exclaimed Colton. “I've seen knife-play in Mexico by the best of the Greasers, but nothing like this.”

“Zere is no one like 'Ze Wonderful Whalley,'” declared that artist coolly, as he gathered his knives, all except the one that held the ace of hearts. He stepped back. “You look at ze spot,” he added, addressing Haynes.

Haynes moved forward to draw out the blade.

There was a cry from Helga and Colton. Something struck the wood so close to his ear that he felt the wind of it, and the handle of one of the big blades quivered against his cheek.

“Eet is for warning,” said “The Wonderful Whalley” urbanely. “Ze heart, eet could——”

He choked as the powerful grasp of Johnston closed on his throat. Haynes and Colton ran forward; but there was no need. The man was passive.

“Eeet was onlee a trick,” he said. “I am insult. I go home.”

“Shall we let him go?” said Haynes undecidedly.

The question was settled for them. With a sudden blow, the juggler knocked down Johnston, dodged between Haynes and Colton, caught his knife from the door as he ran with great swiftness, and threatening back pursuit at the ready point, disappeared not toward the Sand Spit station, but straight over the hills. The baffled captors looked at each other in dismay.

“We've got a loose wild animal to deal with now,” said Colton.