When the smoke faded, her eyes were looking questioningly into his. There was something in his words that did not ring quite true. It was too sudden to be genuine, too unexpected. It struck her as vague and insincere. Yet there was no occasion to mistrust--it was common enough for men to be called suddenly to England on business.---- "When do you expect to return?" she asked. "I do not know," he said, reading something that was in her mind. "If I must go, the business which takes me will also fix my return." A servant approached. "What is it, Hudson?" she asked. "The telephone, Miss Cavendish. Pride's Crossing wishes to talk with you." Croyden arose--it was better to make the farewell brief--and accompanied her to the doorway. "Good-bye," he said, simply. "You must go?" she asked. "Yes--there are some things that must be done to-night." She gave him another look. "Good-bye, then--and _bon voyage_," she said, extending her hand. He took it--hesitated just an instant--lifted it to his lips--and, then, without a word, swung around and went out into the night. * * * * * The next day--at noon--when, her breakfast finished, she came down stairs, a scare headline in the morning's paper, lying in the hall, met her eyes. SUICIDE! Royster Found Dead in His Bath-room! The Penalty of Bankruptcy! ROYSTER & AXTELL FAIL! Many Prominent Persons Among the Creditors. She seized the paper, and nervously ran her eyes down the columns until they reached the list of those involved.---- Yes! Croyden's name was among them! That was what had taken him away! And Croyden read it, too, as he sped Eastward toward the unknown life. III CLARENDON Croyden left Northumberland in the morning--and his economy began with the ride East: he went on Day Express instead of on the Limited, thereby saving the extra fare. At Philadelphia he sent his baggage to the Bellevue-Stratford; later in the evening, he had it returned to the station, and checked it, himself, to Hampton--to avoid the possibility of being followed by means of his luggage. He did not imagine that any one would go to the trouble to trace him, but he was not taking any chances. He wanted to cut himself away, utterly, from his former life, to be free of everyone he had ever known. It was not likely he would be missed. Some one would say: "I haven't seen Croyden lately," would be answered: "I think he went abroad suddenly--about the time of the Royster & Axtell failure," and, with that, he would pass out of notice. If he were to return, any time within the next five years, he would be met by a languid: "Been away, somewhere, haven't you? I thought I hadn't noticed you around the Club, lately."--And that would be the extent of it.