As Dick held that hand and looked into that face a courage and a belief in himself came into his heart that had never been there before.  By day and by night his soul had been filled with the image of Olive, but up to this moment he had not thought of marrying her.  That was something that belonged to the future, not even considered in his state of inchoate adoration.  But now that he had been told he had reason to hope, he hoped; and the fact that one beautiful woman told him he might hope to win another beautiful woman was a powerful encouragement.  Henceforth he would not be content with simply loving Olive; if it were within his power he would win, he would have her.

“You look like a soldier going forth to conquest,” said Mrs. Easterfield with a smile.

“And you,” said he impulsively, “you not only look like, but you are an angel.”

This was pretty strong for the young professor, but the lady understood him.  She was very glad, indeed, that he could express himself impulsively, for without that power he could not win Olive.

As Dick started away from Broadstone on his walk to the toll-gate he heard quick steps behind him and was soon overtaken by Claude Locker.

“Hello,” said that young man, “if you are on your way home I am going to walk a while with you.  I have not done a thing to-day.”

When Dick heard these words his heart sank.  He was on his way home accompanied by Olive—­Olive in his heart, Olive in his soul, Olive in his brain, Olive in the sky and all over the earth—­how dared a common mortal intrude himself upon the scene?

“There is another thing,” said Locker, who was now keeping step with him.  “My soul is filled with murderous intent.  I thirst for human life, and I need the restraints of companionship.”

“Who is it you want to kill?” asked Dick coldly.

“It is an Austrian,” replied the other.  “I will not say what Austrian, leaving that to your imagination.  I don’t suppose you ever killed an Austrian.  Neither have I, but I should like to do it.  It would be a novel and delightful experience.”

Dick did not think it necessary that he should be told more; he perfectly understood the state of the case, for it was impossible not to see that this young man was paying marked attention to Olive, while Mr. Du Brant was doing the same thing.  But still it seemed well to say something, and he remarked: 

“What is the matter with the Austrian?”

“He is in love with Miss Asher,” said Locker, “and so am I. I am beginning to believe he is positively dangerous.  I did not think so at first, but I do now.  He has actually taken to reading.  I know that man; I have often seen him in Washington.  He was always running after some lady or other, but I never knew him to read before.  It is a dangerous symptom.  He reads with one eye, while the other sweeps the horizon to catch a glimpse of her.  By the way, that would be a splendid idea for a district policeman; if he stood under a lamp-post in citizen’s dress reading a book, no criminal would suspect his identity, and he could keep one eye on the printed page, and devote the other to the cause of justice.  But to return to our sallow mutton, or black sheep, if you choose.  That Austrian ought to be killed!”