"No, not told me; but there's something in him there--I mean in his awful manner--that matches too well with other things. We've seen," said the poor pale lady, "other things enough." The young woman almost clutched her. "Is his manner very awful?" "It's simply the manner," Gedge interposed, "of a very great man." "Well, very great men," said his wife, "are very awful things." "It's exactly," he laughed, "what we're finding out! But I mustn't keep him waiting. Our friends here," he went on, "are directly interested. You mustn't, mind you, let them go until we know." Mr. Hayes, however, held him; he found himself stayed. "We're so directly interested that I want you to understand this. If anything happens----" "Yes?" said Gedge, all gentle as he faltered. "Well, _we_ must set you up." Mrs. Hayes quickly abounded. "Oh _do_ come to us!" Again he could but take them in. They were really wonderful folk. And with it all but Mr. and Mrs. Hayes! It affected even Isabel through her alarm; though the balm, in a manner, seemed to foretell the wound. He had reached the threshold of his own quarters; he stood there as at the door of the chamber of judgement. But he laughed; at least he could be gallant in going up for sentence. "Very good then--I'll come to you!" This was very well, but it didn't prevent his heart, a minute later, at the end of the passage, from thumping with beats he could count. He had paused again before going in; on the other side of this second door his poor future was to be let loose at him. It was broken, at best, and spiritless, but wasn't Grant-Jackson there like a beast-tamer in a cage, all tights and spangles and circus attitudes, to give it a cut with the smart official whip and make it spring at him? It was during this moment that he fully measured the effect for his nerves of the impression made on his so oddly earnest friends--whose earnestness he verily, in the spasm of this last effort, came within an ace of resenting. They had upset him by contact; he was afraid literally of meeting his doom on his knees; it wouldn't have taken much more, he absolutely felt, to make him approach with his forehead in the dust the great man whose wrath was to be averted. Mr. and Mrs. Hayes of New York had brought tears to his eyes, but was it to be reserved for Grant-Jackson to make him cry like a baby? He wished, yes, while he palpitated, that Mr. and Mrs. Hayes of New York hadn't had such an eccentricity of interest, for it seemed somehow to come from _them_ that he was going so fast to pieces. Before he turned the knob of the door, however, he had another queer instant; making out that it had been, strictly, his case that was interesting, his funny power, however accidental, to show as in a picture the attitude of others--not his poor pale personality. It was this latter quantity, none the less, that was marching to execution. It is to our friend's credit that he _believed_, as