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Jacob started violently, and again the feeling of shame passed through him like a knife. This was indeed a reward of good for evil—Devil take it, had he known Jim was such a good fellow he doubted he'd have peached on him so readily! But that was all over and done with and confession would only make matters worse. No, better to accept all these unlooked-for blessings as "dead man's luck" and enjoy them as they came.

Barbara trembled—he could almost believe she shuddered—as he drew her toward him. Then her golden head nestled on his shoulder and the scent of her hair was in his nostrils. . . . 'Gad, but it was marvelous that a woman should console herself so soon! Why, here was the work of months, as he had expected, all done for him in less than an hour! Was there in truth some uncanny, inexplicable magic in a dead man's blessing—in the standing, literally, in a dead man's shoes?

"Jim bade me not mourn for him," said the girl slowly. "He would have none of my wearing black clothes or weeping more than a girl could help——"

"Aye, aye, my dear. He was right."

"——and above all," Barbara went on, "he would have it that I must go to the play this evening—go to the play and relieve my mind utterly of the terrible thing they did to him today."

"The play? So!"

"To Drury Lane, Jacob—Davy Garrick plays Hamlet there tonight. It is his last performance of the piece. Jim and I went to his first. Shall we go together, Jacob? It was Jim's last wish."

"Whatever you please, child; so it be for your happiness."

Again she trembled—or maybe shuddered—in his arms.

"Then I would desire to go, Jacob; yes, I would desire that of all things."

"So be it, then. We go."

The play might have been better chosen to suit a man with such a conscience as Jacob Larkyn's that night; the "Players' Scene" with its dramatic emphasis on the Danish King's treachery reawakened all his scruples as to the death of Jim O'Dale. But he shook them off angrily. Where was the use in mooning over what was done and could not be altered? The man was dead, now, and in the hands of the medical students. He was very likely half dissected already. Enough of him, then! Having sinned the sin of David, what was left a sensible man but at least to enjoy the fruits of his misdeed?

At last the final curtain fell.

"Jacob," said Barbara, gently pressing his arm, "would you do one more little thing for me?"

"Ask it, my love, and see!"

"It is that you take me to the stage entrance—I feel Mr. Garrick is my friend, tonight—a better friend than you imagine, Jacob—I beg you take me where we can see him as he leaves the theater and thank him for his wonderful play."

Was it imagination or reality that her voice trembled with a high-pitched, hysterical note as she concluded her sentence? Never mind! He was in the vein to do whatever she asked, that evening; and it was a small thing to lead her to this player and say a few words of thanks.

There was a crowd at the stage door, for "little Davy Garrick" was the idol of London in those days and never left without a bodyguard of some fifty or more about his coach, especially since the affair of Seven String Ned who had held him up on a Tuesday and been himself so dramatically robbed the following