reason at the back of this confusion, and Herrick in the interests of a weak man, resolved to find out what it might be. Seeing that he was bent on remaining, Robin made the best of what he evidently considered a bad job, and became more of his old self. "You are not looking so well, as your letter led me to hope Robin," said Herrick, when the two were smoking in the study. "I am in the best of health," said Robin quickly. "But of course I have been working hard at my book, and that takes it out of a chap." "Read me some of the chapters," said Herrick, who once had been a kind of literary adviser to the author. Robin shook his head uneasily. "Not until the book is done," he said. "I want you to get an impression as a whole. This will be my master-piece. Besides," he added glancing at the clock, "we might be interrupted. At half past seven a friend of mine is coming to dinner." "I hope my unexpected coming will not upset your arrangements Joyce?" "Of course not--how can you think so?" said Robin with an air of constraint that did not escape Herrick. "You are always welcome. Will you stop the night? I can put you up." "No! I must get back to Marsh. I am his companion and doctor for the time being. A very good billet I assure you Robin." "What about your practice?" asked Joyce. "I am now selling it to Grant. It is such a small practice that it is not worth my while to stick to it as against an assured income of a thousand a year." "Is that what Marsh gives you?" "Yes! I do not mind telling you Robin as you are such an old friend. But do not mention this to anyone else. I stay with Marsh for three years. In this way I shall be able to save money and buy a practice in a better part of the town. It is a wonderful bit of luck." "It is indeed, and I congratulate you," replied Robin cheerfully and shaking his friend by the hand. "Marsh must be well off to be able to afford your companionship at that price." "Yes! He has been left about eight thousand a year more or less by Colonel Carr, his late uncle. But that is his business Robin. We will not talk about it." "Have they yet found out who killed Colonel Carr?" "Not yet. Of course it is supposed that Frisco killed him; but the man has disappeared. When he is caught we shall know the truth. You read the case Robin. What do you think?" "It seems as though that man were guilty," replied Joyce slowly, "but I am not prepared to offer an opinion. The fact is I am so busy with my book that I have put all these horrors out of my head. By the way, what about your Southberry Helen?" "Miss Endicotte? Oh, I have seen a good deal of her." "And you are still in love?" "Not very passionately perhaps. But I think a respectable affection is better to marry upon than a wild romantic adoration that will not resist the wear and tear of life. I hope some day if Miss Endicotte will allow me, to marry her--that is when I have a good practice. But if another man more worthy of her comes along, why--"