At this time Mr. Jocelyn might have escaped from his thraldom, but would he?  The world is full of people who are proud and self-respecting in the extreme, who are honorable and virtuous, good and kindly at heart, but whose wills are nerveless, though they may go safely through life without suspecting the truth; but if they fall under the influence of an evil habit—­if they pass under this mightiest and darkest of all spells, opium hunger—­they may learn their weakness in despair.

Mr. Jocelyn, however, had no thought of despair; he was only surprised, humiliated, and somewhat alarmed; he was satisfied that he must drift no longer, and in perfect sincerity resolved to make the most of his brief separation from his family, hoping that with a physician’s advice he could speedily overcome his morbid craving and distressing need.  He left the farmhouse with the resolution that he would never touch the drug again, believing that before a week expired the horrible depression, both mental and physical, would so far pass away as to excite no further suspicion.

For an hour he rode at Roger’s side, rigid, taciturn, and pale; for except when heated by exercise his wonted ruddy color was passing away from the effects of the poison.  Roger drove around to the large hotel, which was not much out of their way, and said, “Mr. Jocelyn, will you please take the lines a few moments?  I have an errand here, but it won’t keep me long.”

Having transacted his business he stood in the office door watching a young man who sauntered toward him.  The stranger was almost as tall as himself, but much slighter.  While his carriage was easy and graceful, it was marked by an air of lassitude and weariness, and his step lacked firmness.  A heavy mustache relieved his face from effeminacy, but his large, dark eyes were dull and apathetic.  Suddenly they lighted up with recognition; he hesitated, and then hastily advanced toward Mr. Jocelyn, but his steps were speedily checked, for the moment the gentleman recognized him he bowed very coldly and turned haughtily away.  The young man flushed deeply, stood still a moment in irresolution, and then with a swift glance into Roger’s interested face turned and quickly disappeared.  Before Roger could resume his place in the wagon the proprietor of the hotel came out and called him back; something had been forgotten.

This interruption was fatal to Mr. Jocelyn’s good resolutions.  Vinton Arnold, who had won his daughter’s affection, but who seemingly had not the manhood to be faithful in her adversity, was the one whom he had repulsed, and the thought of his wealth and luxury, while he was on his way to seek a home in a tenement for his beautiful child, so maddened him that he drove recklessly to an adjacent shed, which shielded him from observation, snatched out his fatal syringe, and in a moment the poison was diffusing itself through all his system.  He had returned again before Roger, who had been detained some moments, reappeared, but now his heavy eyes were bright and fiery, and his tongue unloosed.