For an hour--two hours--Clifford continued to stand in the shadowy doorway near the entrance of the Midnight Café. Presently Mary came down, Jack with her. The light drug which Clifford had slipped into his drink to render him more manageable and prevent his going with his carousing companions, had spent its power. Jack was now sober, though plainly his nerves were still badly shaken. Clifford stepped out of his doorway. He wanted Mary to see him, that she might have the reassurance which would come of her knowing that he was keeping his promise to watch over her and Jack--to ward off any possible attempt of Loveman and Bradley--until she got Jack safely in the apartment at the Mordona, which, months since, they had occupied as “Mr. and Mrs. Grayson” and which they were again to occupy under that name. Mary saw him; but Jack also saw him, which last Clifford had not wished for. “Hello, there, Bob,--come here,” Jack called. Clifford crossed to him, and the young man gripped his hand in a hand that twitched. “Bob, old man,” he went on, his unsteady voice full of feeling, “I want to thank you. You did me a great turn--and, old man, I’m never going to forget it. Mary told me how you got rid of dad, and then sent for her to take me in charge. It was great.” Clifford did not look at Mary, but he was conscious of her pale, set face. He fell in with the apocryphal version Mary apparently had given Jack of what had happened while he had lain in a stupor. “That’s all right, Jack,” Clifford replied. “And say, Bob, I want you to know that I know I’ve been a fool--and things a lot worse than that. But, Bob,--that’s all past now--and past forever! I don’t deserve what Mary is doing for me. But I’m going to make good. I’m going to be a good boy--for Mary’s sake! Just you watch me!” There was a frank manliness in the young fellow’s voice and manner. He was deeply moved, and was as much in earnest as it lay within his powers to be. “Here’s something I wish you’d back me up in, Bob,” Jack went on. “I want to tell dad that Mary and I are married; but she objects. Don’t you think I should?” Clifford, remembering that scene two hours back where Mary had told the older Morton everything while Jack lay unconscious, shook his head. “I think she’s right, Jack.” “Well, I’m going to tell soon, no matter what the two of you say!” He gripped Clifford’s hand anew. “Thanks once more, old man. And remember, I’m sure going to make good!” They stepped into a taxi-cab. All this while Mary had neither spoken nor looked at Clifford, and she did not look at him now. But Clifford saw that her face was still gray, still drawn. He followed at a distance in another taxi-cab, on the watch for interruption from Loveman or Bradley, or their agents. But there was none; and Jack and Mary passed out of sight into the Mordona.