with Long-Hair, who
had returned a few hours before from his pursuit of Beverley.

"It pains me, I assure you, Miss Roussillon, to tell you what will
probably grieve you deeply," he presently added; "but I have not been
unaware of your tender interest in Lieutenant Beverley, and when I had
bad news from him, I thought it my duty to inform you."

He paused, feeling with a devil's satisfaction the point of his
statement go home to the girl's heart.

The wind was beginning to blow outside, shaking open the dark clouds
and letting gleams of moonlight flicker on the thinning fog. A ghostly
ray came through a crack between the logs and lit Alice's face with a
pathetic wanness. She moved her lips as if speaking, but Hamilton heard
no sound.

"The Indian, Long-Hair, whom I sent upon Lieutenant Beverley's trail,
reported to me this afternoon that his pursuit had been quite
successful. He caught his game."

Alice's voice came to her now. She drew in a quivering breath of relief.

"Then he is here--he is--you have him a prisoner again?"

"A part of him, Miss Roussillon. Enough to be quite sure that there is
one traitor who will trouble his king no more. Mr. Long-Hair brought in
the Lieutenant's scalp."

Alice received this horrible statement in silence; but her face
blanched and she stood as if frozen by the shock. The shifty
moon-glimmer and the yellow glow of the lamp showed Hamilton to what an
extent his devilish cruelty hurt her, and somehow it chilled him as if
by reflection; but he could not forego another thrust.

"He deserved hanging, and would have got it had he been brought to me
alive. So after all, you should be satisfied. He escaped my vengeance
and Long-Hair got his pay. You see I am the chief sufferer."

These words, however, fell without effect upon the girl's ears, in
which was booming the awful, storm-like roar of her excitement. She did
not see her persecutor standing there; her vision, unhindered by walls
and distance, went straight away to a place in the wilderness, where
all mangled and disfigured Beverley lay dead. A low cry broke from her
lips; she dropped the heavy swivel-balls; and then, like a bird,
swiftly, with a rustling swoop, she went past Hamilton and down the
stair.

For perhaps a full minute the man stood there motionless, stupefied,
amazed; and when at length he recovered himself, it was with difficulty
that he followed her. Everything seemed to hinder him. When he reached
the ope