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 father as bad as the son? Was the brave, generous old soldier an accomplice with a highwayman? or was Isez deceived by an accidental likeness between the robber and Eugène Durant? His first thought was to rush away from this dangerous house. But every door was by this time barred, and he dared not attempt it.

The surgeon gasped for air. He opened the casement and let the cool breeze blow on his forehead. While standing by the window he heard, as he thought, the whinnying of his own horse. He responded by a whistle which he often employed to cheer the faithful animal. A further whinny made it certain to Isez' mind that his horse was in the stable of Colonel Durant's house, and that there was no room for doubt of the identity of Eugène Durant and the black highwayman.

But Isez could not bring himself to believe that his respected old friend was to blame in the matter. Goodness is not always hereditary. Troubled and alarmed, the surgeon could not lie down, but sat through the night in an easy-chair, and as soon as daylight appeared, quietly left his room and sought that which on the previous evening the Colonel had pointed out as his own.

When Isez opened the door he saw a plainly furnished apartment, and on the curtainless bed the figure of the fine old officer, sleeping calmly and restfully. This sight confirmed Isez in his opinion that Colonel Durant knew nothing of his son's nightly robberies.

"Durant, my dear old friend," said Isez, in a low voice, "will you listen to me for a little while?"

In a moment Durant was wide awake. He sat up, and saw by Isez' countenance that something was wrong.

"Durant, I have a sad and terrible thing to say to you; can you bear to hear it?"

"Speak plainly, what is it?"

"Dear friend, it was your son who robbed me last night."

"Great heaven!" muttered the Colonel; "impossible!"

"It is better," said Isez, speaking rapidly, "that you should learn it from me than from the law, which would be less merciful than I am. Sooner or later he must fall into the hands of justice. That your son should take up this abominable trade is almost incredible—"

"Impossible !" sighed the poor father again, and fell back on his pillow insensible.

Isez fanned him, and sprinkled his face with water, and presently saw him recovered from the swoon.

When his strength returned, Durant sprang from the bed, hurried on clothing, and rushed towards the door, crying, "The coward, the thief! My son a robber! My son a highwayman! My son a felon! I thank God that his mother is dead, and that he has no sister. I will not have such a son. He shall die. Let me pass, Isez, let me pass! I will kill him!"

And, thrusting aside the surgeon, who tried to restrain him, Durant rushed from the room, and up the stairs into the apartment where the young man lay sleeping, or pretending to sleep.

On the table near the window lay Isez' watch, and his seal bearing his monogram,