"It will not be necessary, since I waive any right I may have. I do not intend to live in England, but to go back to New York almost immediately."

There was a murmur of astonishment, and Melton said, "I think that is unreasonably generous."

"No," said Appleby. "I scarcely fancy it is. Dane Cop is mine, and I shall hold on to it, but it would be difficult to get anything worth while out of the other property, which is after all of no great value, without personal supervision, and you may remember that there is still a warrant out for my apprehension."

Melton looked at his companions, and it was evident that they concurred with Craythorne when he said, "In the event of a trial you could clear yourself."

"Yes," said Appleby quietly, "I believe I could, but I have reasons for deciding not to run any risk of being compelled to do so. My partner, who is acquainted with them, does not consider it necessary, and it is more than probable that the police have no longer any expectations of tracing me."

"You understand what you are purposing to do?" said Craythorne.

"It is, of course, quite clear to me. Still, I intend to remain in America."

There was a curious silence, and then Melton, moving forward, shook hands with Appleby.

"I have seldom heard of a finer thing than your decision, though after what I had seen of your father's life I should have expected it from you," he said. "With all respect to the Pallisers, none of them ever made so good a match as the one who married the ranker. While you remain at Northrop you will stay with me."

Earle smiled a little. "I must tell you, Mr. Appleby, that we understand your reasons-and appreciate them. Colonel Melton has, however, antic.i.p.ated my intentions of offering you hospitality."

"You have evidently heard more than I hoped you would have done," said Appleby quietly.

"No," said Melton. "I, at least, know nothing, but I surmise a good deal. If I had not been your father's friend I should, however, never have grasped your motive."

Then the notary was shown in, and Earle rose. "We will wait in the other room," he said. "Mr. Appleby will no doubt have affairs to talk over with Craythorne."

It was half an hour later when Appleby came out, and found them waiting still. "I understand you are going on to see Miss Wayne, and I should be glad to drive you over," said Melton. "Then as you can't get back here to-night you will have to decide which of us shall have the pleasure of entertaining you. I don't wish to be unfair to Earle, but I think I am ent.i.tled to a preference."

Appleby felt curiously grateful to the gray-haired officer, but he smiled a little.

"I wonder if you realize what you are taking upon yourself, sir?" he said.

"If everybody at Northrop heard you were staying with me I should be especially pleased," said Melton gravely.

"Still, in case you did not consider that convenient we will contrive to arrange it differently."

Appleby went with him, and an hour or two later was shown into Mrs.

Wayne's drawing-room. He waited a little, with unpleasant misgivings, and his heart beating a trifle more rapidly than usual, and then felt a slight relief when Violet and her mother came in. The girl was dressed in a long robe of black that emphasized her pallor, but Appleby was rea.s.sured when he noticed her quiet composure.

"I felt that you would wish to see me, though I am afraid I can only cause you distress," he said.

Mrs. Wayne pointed to a chair. "You have come a long way," she said. "We appreciate the consideration for us that brought you."

"I had business with Mr. Craythorne," said Appleby, with a trace of embarra.s.sment.

Then there was a silence he felt horribly unpleasant until Violet Wayne turned her eyes upon him.

"Will you tell us-everything-from the time you met Tony in Cuba? There is so much we wish to know," she said quietly.

Appleby, who wished that the obligation had not been laid on him, commenced abruptly in disjointed sentences, but the memories crowded upon him as he proceeded, and he became oblivious of everything but the necessity of making the most of Tony's part in them. The scenes he pictured became almost more real to him than when they were happening.

He was once more in Cuba, and made his listeners see the sun-scorched hacienda, the long column crawling in the moonlight down the dim white road, the waves of dusky cane, and the glaring streets of Santa Marta.

He felt they realized with him the tension of the silence until the rifles flashed, the flitting shadow that brushed through the cane, the tramp of weary feet, and the exultant shouts of the Sin Verguenza.

In the meanwhile the color appeared and faded in the girl's face, while now and then her lips would tremble and again set tight. Then as he came to the last struggle on the veranda he saw a glow in her eyes, and felt her intent gaze draw the picture out of him. At last she sank back in her chair with a little gasp, and Appleby, who knew he had never spoken in that fashion before, felt suddenly nerveless and embarra.s.sed. For almost a minute he sat staring vacantly in front of him, and then straightened himself with a little abrupt movement.

"I am afraid I have distressed you-but it seemed due to Tony that I should tell you this," he said.

Violet slowly raised her head, and looked at him with hazy eyes. "I think we shall always be grateful-and you must have felt it-you were his friend," she said. "I can't ask the questions I wish to know-you will come back again?"

Appleby rose, and Mrs. Wayne, who went out with him, turned to him in the hall.

"Are you staying any time at Darsley, Mr. Appleby?" she said. "We shall be pleased to see you."

"It was good of you to permit me to come once, madame," said Appleby.

"It will be a week, at least, before I can get away, but I think a little reflection will convince you that it would be better if I did not come here again."

Mrs. Wayne looked at him quietly. "There is no reason why you should not. You will, of course, understand that Violet told me Miss Harding's story."

Appleby did not remember what he answered, but he drove away with a curious feeling of content, and Mrs. Wayne went back to the room where her daughter sat very still in her chair. Stooping down she kissed her gently.

"Did it hurt very much, Violet?" she said.

The girl seemed to shiver. "No," she said in a strained voice. "Not so much as I expected-in the way you mean. It was a splendid reparation Tony made."

Mrs. Wayne laid her hand caressingly on her daughter's hair. "You have told me very little, Violet-and people with your reserve find their troubles the harder to bear."

For a moment or two the girl gazed at the fire. "Mother. I must talk at last. I have almost a horror of myself," she said. "I was wickedly hard to Tony when Nettie Harding told me, and I felt very bitter against him when he went away. I could not overcome the feeling, though I tried-and now when I should ask it of him-he cannot forgive me."

Mrs. Wayne did not appear altogether astonished. "And yet I think he understood that you would marry him when he came back."

"I made him an implied promise-and I would have kept it. I am glad I did so now."

"It would have been difficult? Still, you loved him once."

Violet turned her eyes away, and once more seemed to shiver. "No," she said with a little quaver in her voice. "I seem to have realized since he went away that I never did. Still, until Nettie Harding told me, I fancied I did-and I believed in him. He was so generous, and light- hearted-and, though I am wickedly exacting, I am not hard all through. I can't shake off the horror I feel because I am not more sorry now."

Mrs. Wayne bent down and kissed her again. "My dear, I do not think the right man would find you hard," she said. "Still, I am afraid you will die single. You expect too much."

Appleby, who saw Violet and her mother twice before the week was out, found that the negotiations for an extension of building sites and water rights at Dane Cop which Craythorne had undertaken would delay him another week. The lawyer had urged him to wait in London, and pointed out the risk of recognition or an encounter with Sergeant St.i.tt; but Colonel Melton lived at a distance of several miles from Northrop, and Appleby for no very apparent reason preferred that vicinity. Then when the affair was decided, and there was nothing to delay his sailing for New York, he set out on foot on a farewell visit to Mrs. Wayne's house, and, as it happened, did not find her or her daughter in. He went on to Low Wood, and discovering that Hester Earle half expected Violet spent an hour there in fierce impatience. The afternoon was rapidly wearing through, and as he had taken his pa.s.sage by the "Cunarder" to sail from Liverpool on the following day it was essential that he should leave Darsley that night.

Still, Violet did not come, and he was proceeding ruefully towards Colonel Melton's when he overtook her walking home. The light was growing dim, but he almost fancied that she started when she saw him.

Her voice was, however, as quiet and low as usual when she greeted him.

"I am very glad I met you, because I could not find you at home, and I am going away to-night," he said.

There was the slightest trace of astonishment and concern in the girl's eyes. "Then you will come back with me," she said.

"I'm afraid I can't," said Appleby, with a glance at his watch. "Still, with your permission, I will walk a little of the way with you."

They went on together, and it was not because they desired it that Tony Palliser held a leading place in their thoughts, and twice at least Appleby mentioned him. Then the girl said slowly, "I have heard from Mr.