It is an unfortunate fact that, when a powder-magazine explodes, thedamage is not confined to the person who struck the match, but extendsto the innocent bystanders. In the present case it was Steve Dingle whosustained the worst injuries.

　　Of the others who might have been affected, Mrs. Lora Delane Porter wasbomb-proof. No explosion in her neighbourhood could shake her. Shereceived the news of Kirk's outbreak with composure. Privately, in hereugenic heart, she considered his presence superfluous now that WilliamBannister was safely launched upon his career.

　　In the drama of which she was the self-appointed stage-director, Kirkwas a mere super supporting the infant star. Her great mind, occupiedalmost entirely by the past and the future, took little account of thepresent. So long as Kirk did not interfere with her management of Bill,he was at liberty, so far as she was concerned, to come or go as hepleased.

　　Steve could not imitate her admirable detachment. He was a poorphilosopher, and all that his mind could grasp was that Kirk was introuble and that Ruth had apparently gone mad.

　　The affair did not come to his ears immediately. He visited the studioat frequent intervals and found Kirk there, working hard and showing nosigns of having passed through a crisis which had wrecked his life. Hewas quiet, it is true, but then he was apt to be quiet nowadays.

　　Probably, if it had not been for Keggs, he would have been kept inignorance of what had happened for a time.

　　Walking one evening up Broadway, he met Keggs taking the air andobserving the night-life of New York like himself.

　　Keggs greeted Steve with enthusiasm. He liked Steve, and it was justpossible that Steve might not have heard about the great upheaval. Hesuggested a drink at a neighbouring saloon.

　　"We have not seen you at our house lately, Mr. Dingle," he remarked,having pecked at his glass of beer like an old, wise bird.

　　He looked at Steve with a bright eye, somewhat puffy at the lids, butfull of life.

　　"No," said Steve. "That's right. Guess I must have been busy."Keggs uttered a senile chuckle and drank more beer.

　　"They're rum uns,"he went on. "I've been in some queer places, but this beats 'em all.""What do you mean?" inquired Steve, as a second chuckle escaped hiscompanion.

　　"Why, it's come to an 'ead, things has, Mr. Dingle. That's what I mean.

　　You won't have forgotten all about the pampering of that child what Itold you of quite recent. Well, it's been and come to an 'ead.""Yes? Continue, colonel. This listens good.""You ain't 'eard?""Not a word."Keggs smiled a happy smile and sipped his beer. It did the old mangood, finding an entirely new audience like this.

　　"Why, Mr. Winfield 'as packed up and left."Steve gasped.

　　"Left!" he cried. "Not _quit_? Not gone for good?""For his own good, I should say. Finds himself better off away from itall, if you ask me. But 'adn't you reelly heard, Mr. Dingle? God blessmy soul! I thought it was public property by now, that little bit ofnoos. Why, Mr. Winfield 'asn't been living with us for the matter of aweek or more.""For the love of Mike!""I'm telling you the honest truth, Mr. Dingle. Two weeks ago come nextSaturday Mr. Winfield meets me in the 'all looking wild and 'arassed--itwas the same day there was that big thunder-storm--and he looks at me,glassy like, and says to me: 'Keggs, 'ave my bag packed and my boxes,too; I'm going away for a time. I'll send a messenger for 'em.' Andout he goes into the rain, ............