“There they are,” Ford said, jerkily.  “By George! they’ve got ahead of me.”

Instinctively Miriam clutched his arm, while one of the two strangers came forward apologetically.

“You’re Mr. John Norrie Ford, ain’t you?”

“I am.”

“I’m very sorry, sir, but I’ve got a warrant for your arrest.”

“That’s all right,” Ford said, cheerily.  “I was on my way to you, anyhow.  You’ll find my bag in the cab, and everything ready.  We’ll drive, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Yes, sir.  Sure thing, sir.”

The man dropped back a few paces courteously, while Ford turned to his friends.  His air was buoyant.  Miriam, too, reflected the radiance of her vision of his triumph.  Conquest alone, looking small and white and shrivelled in the rain, showed care and fear.

“I don’t think there’s anything special to say,” Ford remarked, with the awkwardness of a simple nature at an emotional crisis.  “I’m not very good at thanks.  Miss Strange knows that already.  But it’s all in here”—­he tapped his breast, with a characteristic gesture—­“very sacred, very strong.”

“We know that,” Conquest said, unsteadily, with an embarrassment like Ford’s own.

“Well, then—­good-bye.”

“Good-bye.”

With a long pressure of the hand to each, he turned toward his cab.  Of the two strangers, one took his place beside the driver on the box, while the other held the door open for Ford to enter.  His foot was already on the step when Miriam cried, “Wait!”

He turned toward her as she glided across the wet pavement.

“Good-bye, good-bye,” she whispered again; and drawing down his face to hers, she kissed him, as she had kissed him once before, beside the waters of Champlain.

As she drew back from him, Ford’s countenance wore the uplifted look of a knight who has received the consecration to his quest.  Even the two strangers bowed their heads, as though they had witnessed the bestowal of a sacrament.  To Miriam herself it was the seal set on a past that could never be reopened.  She felt the definiteness with which it was ended, as she heard, on her way back to Conquest’s side, the door slammed, while the cab lumbered away.  It seemed to her that Conquest shrank from her as she approached him.

* * * * *

“You’ll come to-morrow?  I shall be home about five.”

Conquest had put her into her motor, drawn the rugs about her, and closed the door.  As he did so, she noticed something slow and broken in his movements.  Leaning from the open window, she held out her hand, but he barely touched it.

“No,” he said, hoarsely, “I shall not come to-morrow.”

“Then, the next day.”

“No, nor the next day.”

“Well, when you can.  If you let me know, I shall stay in, whenever it may be.”

“You needn’t stay in.  I’m not coming any more.”