It was the worst thing he could have said. He realized it the moment he had spoken. This forced, cowardly surrender was worse than brazen defiance, and he saw her lip curl. An idler is apt to be like a sullen child, except that in a grown man the child's sulky spite becomes a dark malice, all-embracing. For the very reason that Vance knew he was receiving what he deserved, and that this was the just reward for his thriftless years of idleness, he began to hate Elizabeth with a cold, quiet hatred. There is something stimulating about any great passion. Now Vance felt his nerves soothed and calmed. His self-possession returned with a rush. He was suddenly able to smile into her face. "After all," he said, "you're absolutely right. I've been a failure, Elizabeth--a rank, disheartening failure. You'd be foolish to trust the result of your life labors in my hands--entirely foolish. I admit that it's a shrewd blow to see the estate go to--Terry." He found it oddly difficult to name the boy. "But why not? Why not Terry? He's a clean youngster, and he may turn out very well--in spite of his blood. I hope so. The Lord knows you've given him every chance and the best start in the world. I wish him luck!" He reached out his hand, and her bloodless fingers closed strongly over it. "There's the old Vance talking," she said warmly, a mist across her eyes. "I almost thought that part of you had died." He writhed inwardly. "By Jove, Elizabeth, think of that boy, coming out of nothing, everything poured into his hands--and now within ten days of his goal! Rather exciting, isn't it? Suppose he should stumble at the very threshold of his success? Eh?" He pressed the point with singular insistence. "Doesn't it make your heart beat, Elizabeth, when you think that he might fall--that he might do what I prophesied so long ago--shoot a man before he's twenty-five?" She shrugged the supposition calmly away. "My faith in him is based as strongly as the rocks, Vance. But if he fell, after the schooling I've given him, I'd throw him out of my life-- forever." He paused a moment, studying her face with a peculiar eagerness. Then he shrugged in turn. "Tush! Of course, that's impossible. Let's go down." CHAPTER 4 When they reached the front porch, they saw Terence Colby coming up the terrace from the river road on Le Sangre. And a changed horse he was. One ear was forward as if he did not know what lay in store for him, but would try to be on the alert. One ear flagged warily back. He went slowly, lifting his feet with the care of a very weary horse. Yet, when the wind fluttered a gust of whirling leaves beside him, he leaped aside and stood with high head, staring, transformed in the instant into a creature of fire and wire-strung nerves. The rider gave to the side- spring with supple grace and then sent the stallion on up the hill.