was not far behind that
of the lover. It was a figure of a man in a natty blue serge suit. A
panama hat of expensive make sat jauntily on top of his head on which
curled close, heavy black hair.

"I wonder if the colonel is coming?" mused Jack Young, as he stopped
to let Jean Forette hurry on a little in advance. Then a backward lance
told him that two other figures were joining the procession. These
last two--a man and a woman--walked more slowly, and they did not talk,
except now and then to pass a few words.

"Then the marriage was legal, after all?" the woman asked.

"Yes, Kate, it was," answered Colonel Ashley. "You are his lawful wife."

"And he only told me I wasn't, so as to shame me--to make me leave him,
and render me desperate?"

"That, and for other reasons. But the fact remains that you are his
wife."

"And this other ceremony--this other woman?"

"No legal wife at all."

"I am sorry for her."

"Yes, she is but a girl. If I had known in time I might have stopped it.
But it is too late now. Is he there, Jack?" he asked, as he joined the
man in the panama hat.

"Yes, sitting outside with Mazi. Going to close in?"

"Might as well. Watch him carefully. He's desperate, and--"

"I know--full of dope. Well I'm ready for him."

And so the trio--the last of the procession, if we except Fate--went
closer to the cottage whence so cheerfully gleamed the light.

"Who is there? What do you want?"

It was the snarling voice of Jean Forette, late chauffeur for the
Carwells, challenging.

"Who is it?" he cried.

The three figures came on.

Suddenly there was a blinding flash, and the gleam from a powerful
electric torch shone in the faces of Jack Young, Morocco Kate and
Colonel Ashley.

There was a gasp of surprise and terror from the man beside Mazi--the
man who had thrust out the torch to see who it was advancing and closing
in on him through the darkness.

"Ah!" sneered the Frenchman, recovering his self-possession. "It is my
friend the officer. Ah, I am glad to see you--but just now--not!" and he
seemed to spit out the words.

"Maybe not. I can't always come when I'm expected, nor where I'm
wanted," said Colonel Ashley coolly. "Now, my friend--Jack!" he cried
sharply.

"I've got him, Colonel," was the cool answer, and there was a cry of
agony from the chauffeur as his wrist was turned, almost to the breaking
point, while there dropped from his paralyzed hand a magazine pistol,
thudding to