One afternoon Ellsworth entered his office to find Dave waiting for him. The young man began in a shaky, husky voice: "I can't stand it, Judge. I'm going to pieces, fast." "You do look bad." "Yes. I don't sleep. I'm so irritable I can't get along up at the courthouse. I'm licked. The worst of it is, I don't know whether it's all imagination, or whether you really stirred up that devilish sleeping thing in me. Anyhow, something has got me. All I can do is study and analyze and watch and imagine--I sit all night thinking--thinking, until everything gets queer and distorted. If I were sane before, you've about unbalanced me with your damnable suggestions." "A few nights of sleep will make you feel better," Ellsworth said, gravely. "I tried drugs, but they made me worse. God! Then my fancies WERE sick. No, I'm going to get out." "Where? How?" "I'm going north to look up the members of my family and learn who I really am. I resigned from the Ranger force to-day. That's no place for a fellow with a--homicidal mania." "Dave! You're taking this thing too absolutely and too hard," Ellsworth declared. But Dave went on, unheeding. "Another reason why I want to get away now is that Alaire will expect me to come to her when she sends for me and--I wouldn't dare trust myself." "Have you told her--written her?" "Not yet, and I sha'n't until I trace out the last doubt in my own mind." In an effort to cheer, Ellsworth put his arm about the sufferer's shoulders. "I'm sure you'll do the right thing, Dave," he said. "Maybe, after all, your instinct is true and you're not Frank Law's boy. I hope so, for this thing weighs me down as it weighs you; but you mustn't let it whip you. Don't give in, and meanwhile, above all things, try to get some sleep." Dave nodded and mumbled something; then he slouched out, leaving the lawyer overcome by a great pity. Ellsworth had seen men, stunned by a court sentence, turn away from the bar with that same dumb, fixed look of hopelessness in their eyes. Impulsively he cursed the sense of duty that had prompted him to interfere. XXIII THE CRASH The several days following Dave's unexpected call at Las Palmas Alaire spent in a delightful reverie. She had so often wrestled with the question of divorce that she had begun to weary of it; and now, when she tried to summon energy to consider it anew, she found herself, as usual, reasoning in a circle and arriving at no decision. She gave up trying, at length, and for the time being rested content in the knowledge that she loved and was loved. In her heart she knew well enough what her ultimate course would be: sooner or later events would force her action. Yielding to a natural cowardice, therefore, she resigned herself to dreamy meditations and left the future to take care of itself. A week passed while she hugged her thoughts to her breast, and then one evening she rode home to learn that Ed had returned from San Antonio.