Laura burst into tears, and the elder with a hissing cry of rage re-entered his carriage and drove to the Sarkies's house. There was no one there. A sudden thought struck him. "To the Catholic Church," he shouted; and the coachman needed no bidding to drive fast. He arrived in time to meet Faly stepping out of the door. "Where's my daughter?" inquired Bullin, furiously shaking his fist in the priest's face. "I presume you are Mr. Bullin?" asked Faly in reply. "Yes--I'm Mr. Bullin; and I want to know what you've done with my daughter--you and that blackguard Sarkies?" "Gently, sir," was the reply. "Your daughter, I believe, is now on the way to the railway station with her husband. If I mistake not, her mother-in-law and another relative accompany the bride on the honeymoon trip. I presume even you will think that sufficient punishment?" Bullin attempted to speak, but in vain. His face was purple with rage, and his hands moved convulsively up and down. Faly was a little touched. "I don't think you need take on so, Mr. Bullin," he said. "Mr. Sarkies will make a most excellent husband." But here the elder found tongue. "Damn you!" he shrieked with a half-articulate voice, "I shall have the law on you and your brood of snakes. May God's curse follow----" Faly laid his hand upon the old man's arm. "Halt, sir!" he said; "you have said enough. Go to the law. If redress is your due, you will get it there. Go to the law, I say; but also go from here. This is no place for you." The elder stared at him for a moment, and then turning entered his carriage, and bade the coachman drive home. A week later he flung a letter across the table to Laura. They were at breakfast. "Send that woman her belongings," he said; "and mind you--forget from this day that she was ever your sister." And Laura bowed her head meekly to hide the tears that filled her eyes. CHAPTER XVI. AN ACCOUNT BALANCED. When Lamport left Halsa unconscious on the roadside and escaped into darkness, he ran on without stopping for nearly half an hour. At last he pulled up, fairly exhausted, and leaned against the wall on the roadside to rest and regain his breath. The run and the excitement had sobered him, and as he rested he began to think over his next move. Bill's knife was still in his hand. He closed the blade carefully. "If only they had been a minute later!" he said to himself as he put it away. Yes, if only they had been a minute later Stephen Lamport would have added another item to his long list of crimes. Not that the record troubled him in any way. His only regret was that he had been foiled. He had begun to hate his wife with the savage hatred that was born of the knowledge that he had done her terrible wrong.