"Tonight you have watched me take my punishment," he continued. "I stood on my feet and cheered when you came back into the ring and when you left. I don't want pity or sympathy, but I want you to have a cheer in your heart for me when I go." Gibson's change from sarcasm and bitterness to a show of manliness relieved the tenseness of the situation. Consuello sank into a chair and gazing into the fireplace, where flames had once sparkled as bright as her romance with Gibson and now only cold ashes remained, left the two men facing each other. "No one has ever doubted your courage," John said. "I hope you do not think that I had anything to do with the death of Murphy or the attack upon yourself," said Gibson. "If I had known what they were going to do I would have died fighting them. I took Cummings' gun from him when he fired at you and the others in the automobile. From that minute I have neither seen nor heard from him. If I ever run across him I'll bring him back and surrender him to the district attorney. That is the way I hope to win condonement for what I've done. That is where I'm going when I leave here tonight, to search for him, to the ends of the earth if it is necessary." "If ever, while you're away, you need help, let me know," John said, with an impulsive desire to take Gibson's hand. But he stood still, waiting for the other to continue. "When I came here tonight and found you two together I said things that I'm sorry ever escaped my lips," said Gibson. "I was a cad and no matter what you may think of me for the other things I've done, I want you to forgive me--both of you--for that alone." Their silence assured him that they were anxious to forget his display of bitterness. "Will you do me this favor, Gallant?" he continued. "Will you publish tomorrow that you have seen me and that I've started search for Cummings and won't return to Los Angeles until I bring him back with me? Just that much and no more." "That much and no more," John promised. Then Gibson turned toward Consuello. She had bowed her head in her hand. He hesitated a moment and then walked slowly to the side of her chair. "Good-by, Conny," he said. She looked up at him, tears brimming in her eyes, her under lip caught between her teeth. He tried to force a smile to his lips, but it balked. "Good-by," she said, and her voice trembled. He turned away quickly, as if he felt he could not trust himself to be at her side a second longer. He stopped again, facing John. "Just one thing more, Gallant," he said. "Yes," said John, his voice queerly out of pitch. Gibson looked him straight in the eyes. "You love her, don't you?" he asked.