Keith had little difficulty in assigning the scandalous story to its true source, though he did Ferdy Wickersham an injustice in laying the whole blame on him.

Meantime, Keith determined that he would not go to Mrs. Wentworth’s again until after he had seen Norman, even though it deprived him of the chance of seeing Lois.  It was easier to him, as he was very busy now pushing through the final steps of his deal with the English syndicate.  This he was the more zealous in as his last visit South had shown him that old Mr. Rawson was beginning to fail.

“I am just livin’ now to hear about Phrony,” said the old man, “—­and to settle with that man,” he added, his deep eyes burning under his shaggy brows.

Keith had little idea that the old man would ever live to hear of her again, and he had told him so as gently as he could.

“Then I shall kill him,” said the old man, quietly.

Keith was in his office one morning when his attention was arrested by a heavy step outside his door.  It had something familiar in it.  Then he heard his name spoken in a loud voice.  Some one was asking for him, and the next moment the door opened and Squire Rawson stood on the threshold.  He looked worn; but his face was serene.  Keith’s intuition told him why he had come; and the old man did not leave it in any doubt.  His greeting was brief.

He had gotten to New York only that morning, and had already been to Wickersham’s office; but the office was shut.

“I have come to find her,” he said, “and I’ll find her, or I’ll drag him through this town by his neck.”  He took out a pistol and laid it by him on the table.

Keith was aghast.  He knew the old man’s resolution.  His face showed that he was not to be moved from it.  Keith began to argue with him.  They did not do things that way in New York, he said.  The police would arrest him.  Or if he should shoot a man he would be tried, and it would go hard with him.  He had better give up his pistol.  “Let me keep it for you,” he urged.

The old man took up the pistol and felt for his pocket.

“I’ll find her or I’ll kill him,” he said stolidly.  “I have come to do one or the other.  If I do that, I don’t much keer what they do with me.  But I reckon some of ’em would take the side of a woman what’s been treated so.  Well, I’ll go on an’ wait for him.  How do you find this here place?” He took out a piece of paper and, carefully adjusting his spectacles, read a number.  It was the number of Wickersham’s office.

Keith began to argue again; but the other’s face was set like a rock.  He simply put up his pistol carefully.  “I’ll kill him if I don’t find her.  Well, I reckon somebody will show me the way.  Good day.”  He went out.

The moment his footsteps had died away, Keith seized his hat and dashed out.