CHAPTER XXVII.
THE CUP OF WRATH AND TREMBLING.
With the first mail that Marrion Latham received
after reaching New York was a letter which bore
the postmark of the small railway station in Kentucky
from which he had lately departed so hastily.
He opened it first, for it was the most important to
him. The letter ran:
"Mr. Latham:
I have trusted you above all other men, yet you have proven to be my most hurtful enemy. I was surprised that you would sell my friendship, my future, and, above all, your own manhood to Willard Frost.
From this time on I am done with you—we are strangers. Enclosed find check, as I prefer not being in your debt for services rendered.
Robert Milburn."
Marrion laid the letter down with a moan; but
the cruel injustice of it aroused no resentment—he
was only stunned by it. After awhile, he felt tired
