For three days Adoni remained at the mountain homestead with Martha. During this time brother and sister renewed their old intimate comradeship, sharing confidences and making plans for the future.

The morning after the tragic night in the garden, a special messenger brought two letters from Vallero. The one written evidently in haste, for Adoni read: "Am off for London tonight. It's the beginning of a new life for me. In that terrible moment, when I saw the spirit of your mother, and she saved us both from crime that realization - Thank God! made a man of me. I love your sister purely. I shall prove it to you both. All I ask is that I be granted a chance to make good. Will you return a few lines with the messenger, so that I may know your attitude toward me? It will help me in transforming my life - Clarence Vallero."

Martha's letter was much longer; it was full of tender assurance of love and loyalty, sorrow over the necessity for their separation and his hopes for a happy future, when he would win back her love and respect. Martha continued reading through her tears, turned back and read it all over again, while Adoni was penning the asked-for assurance.

When Martha had finished the last loving word, she kissed the letter. "Yes, Clarence, I love you, and I will wait for you, through eternity." Hastily she inserted these words in Adoni's letter and with it the messenger departed.

The fourth day after his arrival Adoni boarded the train for the city, where business affairs would detain him for a day, after which he meant to continue his journey to the mountain hamlet that had been his first charge; there to investigate the possibilities of the site for his Dream City. The morning was cloudy and threatening; soon a steady downpour of rain which gave no promise of clearing, began to fall, Adoni gazed abstractedly from the car window upon the drenched fields and the view was depressing.

He bought a paper and settled himself to read. He had nearly finished the first page before his eye caught the name of Gerald Manning under the headlines: "Attempted Suicide will Prove Fatal." Breathlessly he read: "Gerald Manning, the young man who shot himself ten days ago when placed under arrest at the Plaza Cafe, will probably die as a result. Manning was taken to St. Luke's Hospital, where the bullet which had pierced his left lung was extracted. After the wound had been cleansed and dressed, it was thought the patient would recover, but complications of a grave nature have since developed, which render his chances of recovery extremely doubtful. Tonight his physician expressed little hope for his life."

"Manning has made a full confession admitting his forgeries, and declares he committed the crime because his income did not permit the lavish expenditures his sweetheart demanded. Gerald Manning was known to have been infatuated with Marie Lemoine, the music hall favorite, with whom he was dining on the night of his arrest. When interviewed, Miss Lemoine disclaimed all knowledge of the forgeries and responsibility for Manning's rash act."

"Mrs. Adoni Bourdalone, wife of the former rector of St. Paul's, who is Manning's sister, and only relative, is watching constantly at his bedside and is prostrated with grief. Her husband is still in India."

The paper dropped from Adoni's hands. For a few moments he sat stunned. Gazing blankly upon the blurred landscape, he reflected sadly. Gerald's career was ended, cut off abruptly. His own rash precipitous act furnishing the tragic climax to a dissolute life. To Adoni its awful fitness revealed the working of an inexorable law, shocking as it was, revealed but the logical outcome of a heedless nature, lacking moral stamina to face the consequences of its own recklessness. What a staggering blow this would be to Frances. To lose the brother she idolized, and that brother a confessed criminal, dying under the cloud of public disgrace. It was a heavy blow, the first she had ever known, the only serious trouble she had ever been called upon to face, and she was facing it alone. Adoni winced at the thought of her utter desolation. Compassion for the worldly woman prompted him to seek her immediately upon reaching the city. In this hour Frances would need a friend, not an admirer, the conventional sympathy of strangers would only serve to accentuate her loneliness. Poor Gerald, if he could only reach his side, to sustain him in the last hour.

The train sped on through the storm, but to Adoni it seemed a snail's pace, a funeral march. For two years, ever since discovering that Gerald had forged his signature for various amounts, Adoni had feared some startling denouncement of Gerald's misconduct and had earnestly tried to convince him of the folly and certain penalty of his course, and had used the proof of his guilt as a check upon the youth's lawlessness. With Adoni's absence in India, had come the freedom from restraint and the infatuation for the music hall favorite, which had afforded the temptation to which Gerald's weakness readily succumbed.

After what seemed an interminable time, the train finally reached the city. Adoni went at once to a telephone booth, called St. Luke's hospital and asked for the house physician. After a moment the doctor's voice came over the wire: "Yes, Manning is alive; he is sinking. Yes, Mrs. Bourdalone is with him. Certainly you may see the patient. I will inform Mrs. Bourdalone at once."

Adoni left the booth and boarded the first car that passed the hospital. Arriving there he was ushered into the doctor's office.

"So glad you were able to get here so soon, Mr. Bourdalone," he exclaimed, extending his hand in welcome. "Your presence will be a godsend to Mrs. Bourdalone. She is inconsolable."

"Is there no hope!" asked Adoni.

"He may last until morning."

"Does she know it?"

"We have tried to prepare her," but the doctor faltered. "Mrs. Bourdalcme is scarcely herself. She will not have it that her brother cannot recover; she insists that you can save him."