Suddenly, as from roots of poisonous fire, flamed up the forgotten truth concerning her.

It seemed to wither and shrivel up all his joy on its hot, tearing way to his heart.

She had been Oldring's Masked Rider.

To Venters's question, "What were you to Oldring ?" she had answered with scarlet shame and drooping head.
"What do I care who she is or what she was!" he cried, passionately.

And he knew it was not his old self speaking.