For many weeks, journeying from camp on slope of the Himalayas, without much to vary monotonous daily routine, the survey party arrives at Calcutta. All are paid, and the expedition is disbanded.

To Oswald Langdon, choosing some congenial life pursuit now is a serious problem. Liberal pay for service just ended places him beyond the necessity of immediate employment. His faculties might find agreeable exercise in the legal forum, but this seems interdicted by menacing voices and spectral beckonings. Whichever way he turns there loom past wraiths, restless as ghosts of unburied Grecian slain. These must find soothing specific, ere he tastes elixir of life's destiny.

But how proceed to lay these menacing forms? What has been done to ferret out this crime? Who is suspected? Has the body of Alice Webster been discovered? Possibly the strange disappearances have ceased to excite comment. Even Sir Donald Randolph and Esther may remember these only as unpleasant reminiscences.

Father and mother! What of them?

An unutterable homesickness overwhelms him. Looking with mute appeal toward the sky, a star twinkles with softened light. Blending with ominous shadows of a receding cloud, this tender radiance seems prophetic. Oswald feels a chastened sense, but strange assurance.

Two persons pass the hotel. The walk and general appearance of both seem familiar. They are engaged in hurried conversation. No other two men ever duplicated such combinations of voice, walk, gesture, and general appearance. His Northfield and London foes are near.

Pierre and Paul did not see Oswald, but hurried by. On the previous day they had quit the prison. The Calcutta press contained no reference to their release. Having arrived in Calcutta only three days ago, Oswald knows nothing of the arrests. He has no desire to meet either of these rascals, but will go about his own affairs. He feels tempted to assume a disguise and learn something of their purposes, but recoils at such practices.

With all this uncertainty checking and thwarting his aspirations, Oswald cannot easily assume a false guise. True, at Dick Bray's, he donned an old hat and duster, but these were expedients of hunted self-defense, discarded soon as aboard ship.

Upon the following day, still undecided what course to pursue, wondering at the Lanier coincidence of the previous evening, Oswald turns a street-corner, where a great surprise meets his gaze.

Standing on the threshold of a business house, facing the street, is Esther Randolph.

The looks of recognition are mutual. Esther steps slightly forward, but suddenly recoils with a look of scared embarrassment.

Controlling all emotion, Oswald passes on as if nothing had happened. Crossing at the next corner to opposite sidewalk, he sees Esther still staring.

Sir Donald joins his daughter, and noting her agitated look, inquires if she is not well.

Esther then relates her strange impression, clinging hard to her father's arm.

Sir Donald assures his daughter that such queer freaks of imaginary recognition often occur.

She still is nervously uncertain.

Even Sir Donald is not fully satisfied with his own theory.

Without suggestion to Esther, he consults registers of several hotels, but sees nothing to satisfy his curiosity. Concluding that this queer impression of Esther is through some striking similarity between the looks of a passer-by and those of that unfortunate youth now no more, Sir Donald dismisses the subject.

Oswald controlled outward show of emotion at sight of the girl whose image had been in view every waking hour since their first meeting at Northfield. That this was Esther Randolph, her look of recognition fully confirmed. Why is she in Calcutta, and where is Sir Donald?

The young man hardly can prevent retracing his steps and again meeting the girl. But his conduct will not permit of such course. Possibly something happened in London to clear the Thames tragedy of all its mystery and to relieve him of any suspicion as being the murderer. But this cannot be. The presence of both Laniers undisguised upon the public streets of Calcutta is proof that justice has been laggard.

Gladly would he face all and end this horrible perplexity but for Langdon honor.

On the following day, Sir Donald and Esther take a drive. Esther excitedly points toward two men passing up the side of the street, slightly in advance of the horses. Sir Donald is struck with the appearance of the taller youth.

Just opposite the men, Sir Donald and Esther amazedly look at Oswald. Their astonished gaze meets his, and he colors perceptibly. Karl Ludwig notices the looks of recognition, and turns around. Oswald impulsively raises his hat, and the conveyance stops.

Telling Karl Ludwig that he has some business with these people and will join him soon, Oswald steps out into the street. To the apparently self-composed greetings of Sir Donald and Esther, Oswald quietly responds. Asking them their number, it is arranged that he shall call that evening. With habitual courtesy they separate, Sir Donald and Esther riding up the street, and Oswald joining Karl Ludwig at the next street-crossing.

Each actor perceived the embarrassment of the situation, and prevented any public display.

Sir Donald and Esther have no further interest in Calcutta drives. They soon return to their hotel, there to await the appearance of Oswald Langdon.

Esther is all suppressed excitement, and Sir Donald tries to divert her by little fatherly expedients.

Now that there is no longer possibility of concealment, Oswald feels a sense of relief, and is eager for the meeting. To these friends he will tell all, and of them learn the whole news about the mysteries of the past.

Karl Ludwig jollies Oswald about those friends who seemed so surprised to see him.

"Der voman vas luffly, und dot chentlemans vas bedder looging den mosd mens."

At appointed time Oswald enters the hotel and sends up his card. An invitation to call at the Randolph rooms promptly follows. Conducted there, he is admitted.

The gracious, kindly greetings do much to relieve his embarrassment, but Oswald knows that a frank statement should be made, as preliminary to any further courtesies. On his part have been many strange acts. This is a fateful emergency, but he will meet it manfully and without dissimulation or deceit.

His opening is characteristic.

"My conduct has been inconsistent and contradictory, unsatisfactory to myself, and, I have often suspected, cowardly, yet there was no consciousness at any time of intentionally having wronged any human being."

Esther's quick sympathies prompt the reply:

"Father and I both believe you innocent, Mr. Langdon!"

This burst of compassionate confidence pleases yet slightly disconcerts Oswald.

Giving his daughter a look of mildest remonstrance, Sir Donald mutely invites Oswald to continue.

Looking into the loyally expressive eyes of Esther, Oswald says:

"Often I have longed for a chance to explain to you both my strange conduct, but many things prevented. Every succeeding act in the whole miserable series made telling harder. I saw Miss Randolph yesterday, but pretended not to recognize her, fearing the result of being identified."

"But you ought not to have doubted us, Mr. Langdon!"

Not knowing just how to explain this unwarranted, agnostic caprice, Oswald discreetly proceeds with his general line of defense.

"After meeting Miss Randolph yesterday, and through fear of being known, so rudely passing her by, I felt an impulse to go back, apologize, and tell the whole story, but was restrained by motives which were honest, but difficult to understand. Hard as it was to know that friends were within easy reach who could explain much I longed to hear, and possibly aid me to clear a horrible mystery, yet I determined to continue as before, until the Langdon name bears no stain."

"But, Mr. Langdon, your family name is stainless!"

Sympathizing with this earnest youth trying so hard to explain apparent misconduct, yet hedging against unfavorable impressions until all be told, nervously amplifying preliminaries through evident dread of more startling revelations, Sir Donald refrained from comment.

After other preambles, seconded by Esther's eager sympathy and by Sir Donald's grave, kindly reserve, Oswald tells all.

There was no attempt to palliate a single inconsistency or to deny one dubious act. Anticipating surprise at numerous apparently weak performances, he neither minimized nor evaded, urging, however:

"My flight was responsible for all subsequent acts. My own judgment and conscience did not always approve these actions, neither did they condemn them. These eccentric courses were unhappy, immature shifts, concerning which I was never at ease. You have heard all, and I hope will not unduly censure."

With flushed cheeks, Esther inquiringly looked at her father, who during the whole recital had not spoken.

Deliberately rising, Sir Donald took Oswald's hand, and looking into those unflinching eyes, said:

"Mr. Langdon, I believe you fully and censure nothing. Possibly at times you may have acted indiscreetly, but of this I have doubts."

Here Esther, with happy, beaming face, extended her hand, and Oswald listened to congratulations, mutely acknowledging his great sense of happiness.

Placed in proper light before these friends, he soon asks about father and mother.

Neither Sir Donald nor Esther had heard anything of Oswald's parents.

Oswald again experiences some unaccountable feeling. It is now growing late, and he rises to go. Promising to call upon the following evening, the young man passes out into the moonlight and soon reaches his hotel.

Oswald is desirous to hear more of the Thames tragedy. At his next call this matter is discussed quite fully.

The failure of Oswald and Alice to return from night row on the Thames; search for them next day; finding of his hat and her handkerchief; comments of London press; persecutions of detectives; persistent impertinence of reporters; trip of Sir Donald and Esther to Paris; sailing of father and daughter for Calcutta; attempts to locate Mrs. Dodge; being shadowed by strangely disguised man, with all pertaining incidents; visits to poor family, and clew thereby obtained; call upon Mrs. Dodge, her statement, and matters culminating in arrest of the three conspirators; queer, unwarranted proceedings of Calcutta officials in detention without warrant, charge, or arraignment of three men, resulting in discharge of the Laniers and continued imprisonment of William Dodge—all were graphically narrated by Sir Donald.

Oswald asks many questions as to matters that have puzzled his mind while pondering over this tangled web. Some of these are cleared, but many remain unanswered.

What can be the meaning of these arrests? Why were the Laniers discharged and William Dodge detained? Could it be possible that the Laniers procured the arrests, their own being only a blind? Was there collusion between officials and the Laniers? How account for their strange acquiescence in this lawless imprisonment? Had all or any of the three villains confessed? Were the submission of the Laniers to such long, unwarranted custody and their final discharge in accord with an arrangement whereby they had charged William Dodge with murder? Upon what theory did William Dodge submit to continued detention without arraignment?

These and similar questions were discussed by Sir Donald and Oswald, but no satisfactory answers could be given.

Oswald said to Sir Donald: "Perhaps your detective employes effected the arrests upon insufficient evidence, and seeing that there was no possibility of convicting the Laniers, had them released. This possibly might account for their part in the farce, but does not throw any light on the Dodge episode."

Sir Donald scouted such theory, replying: "I have unbounded faith in the London bureau, and am fully assured that these arrests were neither planned nor acquiesced in by that office."

After explanations of the reasons for this belief, Oswald felt sure Sir Donald was right.

Esther is now happy. This fascinating suitor of former years, whom she had mourned as dead, is alive and more interesting than ever. His sorrowful experiences and open avowal of all strange conduct encircle that brow with a romantic halo. How Oswald Langdon has suffered! She is sure there is not one blamable act in his whole course of conduct. If Oswald should renew that proposal—well, her ideas have undergone a change. She will reconsider the whole matter, and—do what her—well—perhaps—yes, that is so!

All Oswald's former love for Esther Randolph, intensified by pensive memories and lonely wandering, now pulses anew. He sees in Esther's changed manners most encouraging incentives to his reviving hopes. He believes she now would accept a proposal and become his bride.

There has been a noticeable tendency in her talks toward former associations, with delicately worded hints at changed views, resulting from more mature knowledge.

But there has been a change in Oswald Langdon. The alchemy worked capriciously, but the product has been transmuted. That impetuous, masterful will is less persistent. There is a more refined, discriminating sense of subtle distinctions.

Oswald Langdon will not renew former suit. Not yet may he face the world an unsuspected man. The death of Alice Webster still remains a mystery. Her murderer, escaping farcical arrest, is now at large. The agencies employed to unravel this triple conspiracy seem ineffective. He will not pose as suspected murderer of an innocent girl. Until this mystery is cleared, he will not think of marriage with Esther Randolph. This grand, pure-minded, cultured girl shall not blush as wife of a supposed villain whose hands seem crimson with human blood. He can live and wait and plan and suffer, if need be, to the end of life, a lone wanderer, but no woman shall blush for his reputation.

Oswald feels no sense of present concern for maternal solicitude, but wonders at such marked indifference.

While much pleased at knowledge that Oswald Langdon escaped the murderous assault by Paul Lanier, and fully believing in Oswald's absolute innocence of crime, Sir Donald is alive to the situation. There can be no possible doubt as to the mutual sentiments of Esther and Oswald. That now these would grow stronger is the inevitable logic of events.

Oswald's supposed death under such mysterious circumstances tends to intensify Esther's memories of the past. That all such tender recollections, augmented by romance of last few days and renewed associations, would be an irresistible magnet between these two dissimilar, yet mutually attracting souls, Sir Donald cannot doubt.

Nor does his mature judgment recoil at the issue. All fatherly intuitions approve of such choice. Every physical, ethical, and domestic consideration favors this union. Under other circumstances, this discreetly indulgent father could tenderly yield his beloved child to such a suitor.

Yet not only shall this union of young hearts be prevented, but association must cease. What explanation can Oswald Langdon offer the world for the disappearance of Alice Webster, or for his own strange conduct? It matters not that Sir Donald and Esther have no doubts of Oswald's honor. Nor will it suffice that this far-seeing, discriminating father approves of Oswald's actions in the whole affair as almost absolute necessities to the ends of justice. The conduct of this unfortunate youth must be tested in a less friendly forum, before a tribunal with penchant toward an exhaustive array of incriminating points.

Sir Donald Randolph cannot permit further association of his daughter with one who may be suspected of criminal act or intrigue. Neither depth of affection nor vital impulse of the heart may control in this network. Esther Randolph may not become the wife of him who is in imminent danger of arraignment as a murderer.

To Esther he said:

"It is now clear to me that Oswald's continued absence from England and India is requisite to the unraveling of that subtly interwoven web. The public still must believe him dead. If they knew of Oswald's flight and after hiding, the Laniers could move about with brazen effrontery. The farcical arrests of these villains, followed by such queer release from imprisonment, may have some reference to such information. Can it be that this strange procedure had its inception in knowledge of his whereabouts, and in a suspicion that the Laniers and William Dodge knew incriminating facts which they theretofore suppressed through motives of discretion or self-interest? Probably the Laniers yielded to pressure, and falsely accused Oswald of murdering Alice Webster. Even now, fate's coils may be closing about his doomed life."

Esther was very pale, but made no reply.

There was to Sir Donald a most decisive leaning toward prompt action in an emergency. About many subjects he ruminated with speculative ease, but dallied little in matters affecting Esther's interests.

At the very time that Oswald fully vowed not to think of marriage with Esther Randolph until after the Laniers had been whipped of justice, Sir Donald was moving toward the hotel where this young man stopped, revolving in his mind how to broach his wishes without offense.

Their conference was short. When Sir Donald was explaining the requisite precautions, Oswald noted his embarrassment, and anticipated all without reference to the central figure. The girl whose image posed before the heart-visions of both was not named during this interview.