For a moment he was white with malice, staring at the girl, then suddenly submitting to the inevitable, turned on his heel and left the room. "Now," said Elizabeth, sitting erect again, "what is it? Why do you insist on talking to me of--him? And--what has he done?" In spite of her calm, a quiver of emotion was behind the last words, and nothing of it escaped Kate Pollard. "I knew," she said gently, "that _two_ people couldn't live with Terry for twenty-four years and both hate him, as your brother does. I can tell you very quickly why I'm here, Miss Cornish." "But first--what has he done?" Kate hesitated. Under the iron self-control of the older woman she saw the hungry heart, and it stirred her. Yet she was by no means sure of a triumph. She recognized the most formidable of all foes--pride. After all, she wanted to humble that pride. She felt that all the danger in which Terry Hollis now stood, both moral and physical, was indirectly the result of this woman's attitude. And she struck her, deliberately cruelly. "He's taken up with a gang of hard ones, Miss Cornish. That's one thing." The face of Elizabeth was like stone. "Professional--thieves, robbers!" And still Elizabeth refused to wince. She forced a cold, polite smile of attention. "He went into a town and killed the best fighter they had." And even this blow did not tell. "And then he defied the sheriff, went back to the town, and broke into a bank and stole fifty thousand dollars." The smile wavered and went out, but still the dull eyes of Elizabeth were steady enough. Though perhaps that dullness was from pain. And Kate, waiting eagerly, was chagrined to see that she had not broken through to any softness of emotion. One sign of grief and trembling was all she wanted before she made her appeal; but there was no weakness in Elizabeth Cornish, it seemed. "You see I am listening," she said gravely and almost gently. "Although I am really not well. And I hardly see the point of this long recital of crimes. It was because I foresaw what he would become that I sent him away." "Miss Cornish, why'd you take him in in the first place?" "It's a long story," said Elizabeth. "I'm a pretty good listener," said Kate. Elizabeth Cornish looked away, as though she hesitated to touch on the subject, or as though it were too unimportant to be referred to at length. "In brief, I saw from a hotel window Black Jack, his father, shot down in the street; heard about the infant son he left, and adopted the child--on a bet with my brother. To see if blood would tell or if I could make him a fine man." She paused. "My brother won the bet!" And her smile was a wonderful thing, so perfectly did it mask her pain. "And, of course, I sent Terry away. I have forgotten him, really. Just a bad experiment." Kate Pollard flushed. "You'll never forget him," she said firmly. "You think of him every day!"