“But now you ask me to put him wholly in your possession.  Colonel, you omit one link in your chain of reasoning.  The link is important—­to me.  What am I to gain by placing him within the range of your whispering?”

“Tush!  Do I need to tell you?  I still presume you are interested in Lou, though you attempted to do so much to give Landis back to her.  Well, Donnegan, you must know that when she learns it was a bullet from your gun that struck down Landis, she’ll hate you, my boy, as if you were a snake.  But if she knows that after all you were forced into the fight, and that you took the first opportunity to bring Jack into my—­er—­paternal care—­her sentiments may change.  No, they will change.”

Donnegan left his chair and began to pace the floor.  He was no more self-conscious in the presence of the colonel than a man might be in the presence of his own evil instincts.  And it was typical of the colonel’s insight that he made no attempt to influence the decision of Donnegan after this point was reached.  He allowed him to work out the matter in his own way.  At length, Donnegan paused.

“What’s the next step?” he asked.

The colonel sighed, and by that sigh he admitted more than words could tell.

“A reasonable man,” he said, “is the delight of my heart.  The next step, Donnegan, is to bring Jack Landis to this house.”

“Tush!” said Donnegan.  “Bring him away from Lebrun?  Bring him away from the tigers of Lord Nick’s gang?  I saw them at Milligan’s place tonight.  A bad set, Colonel Macon.”

“A set you can handle,” said the colonel, calmly.

“Ah?”

“The danger will in itself be the thing that tempts you,” he went on.  “To go among those fellows, wild as they are, and bring Jack Landis away to this house.”

“Bring him here,” said Donnegan with indescribable bitterness, “so that she may pity his wounds?  Bring him here where she may think of him and tend him and grow to hate me?”

“Grow to fear you,” said the colonel.

“An excellent thing to accomplish,” said Donnegan coldly.

“I have found it so,” remarked the colonel, and lighted a cigarette.

He drew the smoke so deep that when it issued again from between his lips it was a most transparent, bluish vapor.  Fear came upon Donnegan.  Not fear, surely, of the fat man, helpless in his invalid’s chair, but fear of the mind working ceaselessly behind those hazy eyes.  He turned without a word and went to the door.  The moment it opened under his hand, he felt a hysterical impulse to leap out of the room swiftly and slam the door behind him—­to put a bar between him and the eye of the colonel, just as a child leaps from the dark room into the lighted and closes the door quickly to keep out the following night.  He had to compel himself to move with proper dignity.

When outside, he sighed; the quiet of the night was like a blessing compared with the ordeal of the colonel’s devilish coldness.  Macon’s advice had seemed almost logical the moment before.  Win Lou Macon by the power of fear, well enough, for was not fear the thing which she had followed all her life?  Was it not through fear that the colonel himself had reduced her to such abject, unquestioning obedience?