tter than those
which followed. The hideous treachery of his false friend, the terrible
fate which stared him in the face--pent up within that deathtrap, and--
hollow mockery--wealth untold lying at his feet. And the
cold-bloodedness which had planned and carried out so consummate a
scheme! Why had not the villain drawn up the longest rope, and left him
below in the crater instead of up here on the ledge? Why, because he
knew that he himself could be shot dead from below while climbing the
upper rope, whereas now he was safe. The whole thing was as clear
daylight. There was no room for doubt.

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO.

JUDAS IMPROMPTU.

One of those inexplicable problems which now and again crop up to puzzle
the student of human nature and to delight the cynic is the readiness
wherewith a man, who on the whole is rather a good fellow, will
suddenly, and at a moment's notice, plunge into the lowest depths of
base and abject villainy.

When Maurice Sellon first laid his hand upon the lower rope to ascend
out of the crater, he had no more idea of committing this act of
blackest treachery than his generous and all too trusting friend had.
It came to him, so to speak, in mid-air--begotten of a consciousness of
the priceless treasure now in his possession--of the ease wherewith he
could draw up the rope.

The temptation became too strong. That splendid stone, worth a fortune,
would be all his. Renshaw might eventually work his way out by some
other point--but not until he himself had got a long start to the good.
He remembered his friend's words earlier in their expedition. "Do you
think you could find your way back alone?" Strangely prophetic! Yes,
he thought he could do that. At any rate, with the fabulous wealth
about him, it was worth while making the trial.

We think we have hitherto made it clear that Sellon was not without some
good impulses. Equally we seem to have made it clear that he was at the
same time what is commonly, and expressively, known as a "slippery
character." From a slip to a downright--a heavy--fall is the work of an
instant. So, too, had been the dastardly resolve which he had formed
and carried out.

He could not have lifted a hand against his friend--his nature was too
weak for any such aggressive act of villainy. But to leave him to
perish miserably of starvation, shut up there in the crater, involved
the playing of a comparatively inactive part. And again, it did not
loo