He took his hat from where it lay amid the confusion of the table. He bowed, first to the woman, then to Schuyler. He was a proud man--a strong man. It hurt him to lose--and the more because the stake had been so great.... He passed across the room, and through the door, closing it behind him. Upon the woman, still laughing in the delight of her success, Schuyler rounded. There was in his heart, too, a great bitterness--a great hurt. For he, too, realized how near he had been to salvation--and that realization made the present distance seem yet greater than ever before; and God alone knew how great that was. "I hope you're satisfied," he remarked, dully. "Now even he has gone. You've broken the last link that bound me to the life that was." Again she laughed, ringingly, merrily. Then the greatness of his wrath obsessed him. "Laugh!" he cried, wildly. "Laugh at your fool!--the helpless, spineless, soulless fool who does your bidding even to the depths of hell! Laugh! ... Laugh! ..." Suddenly, his body seemed to wither. He leaned weakly against the back of the great chair.... His head sunk slowly upon his arms.... There came suddenly from the stairway a little, delighted, cry in childish treble. "Daddy! Daddy, dear!" Schuyler, head buried, thought at first that it was but within himself that he heard--that it was that other sense--that unknown sense--that had called him.... The cry came again.... Slowly he raised his head, and looked.... A great, cold clutch tore his heart. His veins stiffened. His head reeled. He staggered, back, clutching for support, at the chair. Even this had come to him! It was she--his daughter--the child of his wife, and of himself--the child that had been his to love when still he had been man. The little one was scampering down the stairs, tiny feet pattering upon thick carpet. Her eyes were dancing; her lips smiling; there was in her the great, unequivocating, unquestioning gladness of the young. "Daddy!" she cried, again, all delight. "Daddy, dear!" He hesitated.... Then swiftly he ran to her, seizing her in eager, thrilling arms, hiding her face against his breast, that she might not see--Yet was it too late. "Oh, what a beautiful lady, daddy!" cried the little one. "Who is she?" He gasped. He choked. He could not answer.... The woman stood looking on, smiling--still smiling. At length he found words: "How did you come here, little sweetheart?" he asked. "I runned away," she returned. "I was in the Park, with Mawkins. I left her while she was talking to a p'liceman.... Oh, daddy, dear! When are we coming home? I miss you so much!" The woman moved forward, eyes upon the kneeling, soul-torn man; and upon the little child that was his. "Another advocate!" she said. "It has been skilfully planned." "What does she mean, daddy?" queried the child. He answered, quickly: "Nothing, dearie."