He paused a moment, then continued:  “I do not claim to understand you perfectly, Mr. Mainwaring.  I will confess you have always been a mystery to me, and you are still.  There are depths about you that I cannot fathom.  But I do believe in your honor, your integrity, and your probity, and as for taking part in any action reflecting upon your character, or incriminating you in any respect, I never will!”

A roar of applause resounded through the club-rooms as he concluded.  When it had subsided, Harold Mainwaring replied,-

“Mr. Whitney, I thank you for this public expression of your confidence in me.  The relations between us in the past have been pleasant, and I trust they will continue so in the future.  As I stated, however, I came here to-night with no unfriendly feeling towards yourself, but to ask you to be the bearer of a message from me to your client.  Ralph Mainwaring, not content with trying by every means within his power to deprive me of my right and title to the estate for years wrongfully withheld from my father and from myself, now accuses me of being the murderer of Hugh Mainwaring.  I Say to Ralph Mainwaring, for me, that, not through what he terms my ‘inordinate greed and ambition,’ but through God-given rights which no man can take from me, I will have my own, and he is powerless to prevent it or to stand in my way.  But say to him that I will never touch one farthing of this property until I stand before the world free and acquitted of the most remote shadow of the murder of Hugh Mainwaring; nor until the foul and dastardly crime that stains Fair Oaks shall have been avenged!”

Amid the prolonged applause that followed, Harold Mainwaring left the building.

CHAPTER XXV

RUN TO COVER

A dull, cheerless day in the early part of December was merging into a stormy night as the west-bound express over one of the transcontinental railways, swiftly winding its way along the tortuous course of a Rocky Mountain canyon, suddenly paused before the long, low depot of a typical western mining city.  The arc lights swinging to and fro shed only a ghastly radiance through the dense fog, and grotesque shadows, dancing hither and thither to the vibratory motion of the lights, seemed trying to contest supremacy with the feeble rays.

The train had not come to a full stop when a man sprang lightly from one of the car platforms, and, passing swiftly through the waiting crowd, concealed himself in the friendly shelter of the shadows, where he remained oblivious to the rain falling in spiteful dashes, while he scanned the hurrying crowd surging in various directions.  Not one of the crowd observed him; not one escaped his observation.  Soon his attention was riveted upon a tall man, closely muffled in fur coat and cap, who descended from one of the rear coaches, and, after a quick, cautious glance about him, passed the silent, motionless figure in the shadow and hastily entered a carriage standing near.  The other, listening intently for the instructions given the driver, caught the words, “545 Jefferson Street.”