In the midst of this excitement, and while suspense was at its highest, Dave Law returned.  Ellsworth found him in his office one morning and fell upon the young man eagerly.  Two weeks had worked a shocking change in Dave; he was gaunt, ill; his eyes were bright and tired and feverish.  They had a new expression, too, which the judge at first could not fathom, but which he took to be fear.  Dave’s brown cheeks had bleached; his hands hung loose and unmanageable at his sides.

“I’ve had a long trip,” he said, somberly, “months—­years long, it seems to me.”

“Well, thank God you’re back.  Tell me, what did you find out?”

Law closed his eyes wearily.  He shook his head.  “Nothing except verification.  I’m sorry I went.  The Law blood is tainted, all right—­it reeks.  The whole damned outfit were crazy.  On my mother’s side, though, I’m healthy enough—­and there appears to be some mystery or something queer about me as a baby.  That’s all I’ve discovered so far.  But I’ve a relative in San Antone, a cousin of my mother’s, who runs a curio-store.  He deals in Mexican jewelry and antiques, and all that—­strange old fellow.  He says he has a trunkful of stuff that belonged to his family, and he has promised to go through it for me.”

“Then you still hope to prove—­”

“I haven’t any hope.  I’ve given up.”

“Why?” Ellsworth asked, sharply.

“Because I know the truth.  Because I’m—­going crazy.  Fact!  I can see it myself now.”

“Why, boy, that’s imagination, nothing else.”

“Perhaps,” Dave agreed, listlessly.  “I’m reading everything on the subject of insanity that I can get hold of.”

Ellsworth tried to laugh.  “That in itself is enough to unbalance you.”

“I’m moody, depressed; I’m getting so I imagine things.  By and by I’ll begin to think I’m persecuted—­I believe that’s how it works.  Already I have hallucinations in broad daylight, and I’m afraid of the dark.  Fancy!  I don’t sleep very often, and when I do I wake up in a puddle of sweat, shivering.  And dreams!  God, what dreams!  I know they’re dreams, now, but sooner or later I suppose I’ll begin to believe in ’em.”  Dave sighed and settled lower in his chair.  “I—­I’m mighty tired.”

Ellsworth clapped him on the back.  “Come, now!  A perfectly healthy man could wreck his reason this way.  You must stop it.  You must do something to occupy your mind.”

“Sure.  That’s what brings me home.  I’m going to the front.”

“To the war?”

“Yes.  They’re recruiting a rough-rider regiment in San Antone.  I joined yesterday, and I’ve come to get my horse.”

After a time Ellsworth said, “Alaire has commenced her action.”  Dave took a deep, sharp breath and began to tremble weakly.  “I didn’t tell her, but—­you must.  We can’t go on like this.”

“Suppose I just go to war and—­and don’t come back?” thickly inquired the sufferer.