Persuading his father to advance the capital， he wentinto business and keen and successful business he madeof it， devoting his afternoons whole-souled to it， whilehis partner devoted the mornings. The early evenings hespent socially， but， as the hour grew to nine or ten， anirresistible restlessness overcame him and he disappearedfrom the haunts of men until the next afternoon. Friendsand acquaintances thought that he spent much of his timein sport. And they were right， though they never wouldhave dreamed of the nature of the sport， even if they hadseen him running coyotes in night-chases over the hills ofMill Valley. Neither were the schooner captains believedwhen they reported seeing， on cold winter mornings， aman swimming in the tide-rips of Raccoon Straits or inthe swift currents between Goat island and Angel Islandmiles from shore.
In the bungalow at Mill Valley he lived alone， save forLee Sing， the Chinese cook and factotum， who knewmuch about the strangeness of his master， who was paidwell for saying nothing， and who never did say anything.
After the satisfaction of his nights， a morning’s sleep，and a breakfast of Lee Sing’s， James Ward crossed the bayto San Francisco on a midday ferryboat and went to theclub and on to his office， as normal and conventional aman of business as could be found in the city. But as theevening lengthened， the night called to him. There camea quickening of all his perceptions and a restlessness. Hishearing was suddenly acute； the myriad night-noises toldhim a luring and familiar story； and， if alone， he wouldbegin to pace up and down the narrow room like anycaged animal from the wild.
Once， he ventured to fall in love. He never permittedhimself that diversion again. He was afraid. And for manya day the young lady， scared at least out of a portion ofher young ladyhood， bore on her arms and shoulders andwrists divers black-and-blue bruises—tokens of caresseswhich he had bestowed in all fond gentleness but too lateat night. There was the mistake. Had he ventured lovemakingin the afternoon， all would have been well， for itwould have been as the quiet gentleman that he wouldhave made love—but at night it was the uncouth， wifestealingsavage of the dark German forests. Out of hiswisdom， he decided that afternoon love-making couldbe prosecuted successfully； but out of the same wisdomhe was convinced that marriage as would prove a ghastlyfailure. He found it appalling to imagine being marriedand encountering his wife after dark.
So he had eschewed all love-making， regulated his duallife， cleaned up a million in business， fought shy of matchmakingmamas and bright-eyed and eager young ladies
of various ages， met Lilian Gersdale and made it a rigidobservance never to see her later than eight o’clock in theevening， run of nights after his coyotes， and slept in forestlairs—and through it all had kept his secret safe save LeeSing . . . and now， Dave Slotter. It was the latter’s discoveryof both his selves that frightened him. In spite of thecounter fright he had given the burglar， the latter mighttalk. And even if he did not， sooner or later he would befound out by some one else.
Thus it was that James Ward made a fresh and heroiceffort to control the Teutonic barbarian that was halfof him. So well did he make it a point to see Lilian inthe afternoons， that the time came when she acceptedhim for better or worse， and when he prayed privily andfervently that it was not for worse. During this period noprize-fighter ever trained more harshly and faithfully for acontest than he trained to subdue the wild savage in him.
Among other things， he strove to exhaust himself duringthe day， so that sleep would render him deaf to the call ofthe night. He took a vacation from the office and went onlong hunting trips， following the deer through the mostinaccessible and rugged country he could find—and alwaysin the daytime. Night found him indoors and tired. Athome he installed a score of exercise machines， and whereother men might go through a particular movement tentimes， he went hundreds. Also， as a compromise， he builta sleeping porch on the second story. Here he at leastbreathed the blessed night air. Double screens preventedhim from escaping into the woods， and each night LeeSing locked him in and each morning let him out.
The time came， in the month of August， when heengaged additional servants to assist Lee Sing and dareda house party in his Mill Valley bungalow. Lilian， hermother and brother， and half a dozen mutual friends， werethe guests. For two days and nights all went well. Andon the third night， playing bridge till eleven o’clock， hehad reason to be proud of himself. His restlessness fullyhid， but as luck would have it， Lilian Gersdale was hisopponent on his right. She was a frail delicate flower of awoman， and in his night-mood her very frailty incensedhim. Not that he loved her less， but that he felt almostirresistibly impelled to reach out and paw and maul her.
Especially was this true when she was engaged in playing awinning hand against him.
He had one of the deer-hounds brought in and， when itseemed he must fly to pieces with the tension， a caressinghand laid on the animal brought him relief. These contactswith the hairy coat gave him instant easement and enabledhim to play out the evening. Nor did anyone guess thewhile terrible struggle their host was making， the while helaughed so carelessly and played so keenly and deliberately.