“Yes, sir,” came the curt answer. “Who? Who bring her home? Vic Burleigh?” “I brought her home. She is a good girl, too.” In spite of himself, Burgess resented the shame of such a father for the capable, happy-spirited daughter. “Yesh, Dennie's good girl, all right.” Then a silence fell. Presently, the old man spoke again. “Shay, Prof esh, 'd ye mind doin' somethin' for me?” “What is it?” Burgess was by nature courteous. “If anything sh'd ever happen to me, 'd you take care of Dennie? Shay, would you?” “If I could do anything for her, I would do it,” the young man replied. “Somethin' gonna happen to me. I ain't shafe. I know I'll go that way. But you'll be good to Dennie. Now, wouldn't you? I'd ask Funnybone, but he's no shafer 'n I am. No shafer! You'll be good to Dennie, you said so. Shay it again!” Bond was standing now bending threateningly toward Burgess, who had also risen. “I'll do all that a gentleman ought to do.” He had only one thought--to pacify the drunken man and get away. And the old man understood. “Shwear it, I tell you! Lif' up your right hand an'--an' shwear to take care of Dennie, or I'll kill you!” Bond insisted. He was a large, muscular man, towering over the slender young professor like a very giant, and in his eyes there was a cruel gleam. Vincent Burgess was at the limit of mental resistance. Lifting his shapely right hand in the shadowy light, he said wearily: “I swear it!” “One more question, and you may go. You know that little boy Vic Burleigh takes care of here?” The Professor had heard of him. “Vic keeps that little boy all right. He don't complain none. S'pose you help me watch um, Profesh.” Then as an afterthought, Saxon added: “Young woman livin' out north of town. Pretty woman. She don't know nothing 'bout that little boy. Now, honest, she don't. Lives all by herself with a big dog.” Jealousy is an ugly, suspicious beast. Vincent Burgess was no worse than many other men would have been, because his mind leaped to the meaning old Saxon's words might carry. And this was the man with Elinor in the darkness and the storm. Before Burgess could think clearly, Saxon came a step nearer. “Shay, where's Vic tonight?” “Across the river with Miss Wream. They were cut off by the deep water,” Vincent answered. A quick change from drunkenness to sober sense leaped into Bond Saxon's eyes. “Across the river! Great God!” Then sternly, with a grim set of jaw, he commanded: “You go home! If you dare to say a word, I'll kill you. If you try to follow me, he'll kill you. Go home! I 'm going over there, if I die for it.” And the darkness and rain swallowed him as he leaped away to the westward! Burgess gazed into the blackness into which Bond Saxon had gone until a soft hand touched his, and he looked down to see little Bug Buler, clad in his nightgown, standing barefoot beside him. “Where's Vic?” Bug demanded. “I don't know,” Burgess answered.