cion between Rudyard and Jasmine was closed. So
long as it yawned, so long as there was between them the accounting for
Adrian Fellowes' death, they might have come together, but there would
always have been a black shadow between--the shadow that hangs over the
scaffold.

"They should know the truth," he said almost peremptorily.

"They both know," she rejoined calmly. "I told him this evening. On the
day I saw you at the hospital, I told her."

There was silence for a moment, and then he said: "She must come here
before he joins his regiment."

"I saw her last night at the hospital," Al'mah answered. "She was
better. She was preparing to go to Durban. I did not ask her if she was
coming, but I was sure she was not. So, just now, before you came, I
sent a message to her. It will bring her.... It does not matter what a
woman like me does."

"What did you say to her?"

"I wrote, 'If you wish to see him before the end, come quickly.' She
will think he is dying."

"If she resents the subterfuge?"

"Risks must be taken. If he goes without their meeting--who can tell!
Now is the time--now. I want to see it. It must be."

He reached out both hands and took hers, while she grew pale. Her eyes
had a strange childishly frightened look.

"You are a good woman, Al'mah," he said.

A quivering, ironical laugh burst from her lips. Then, suddenly, her
eyes were suffused.

"The world would call it the New Goodness then," she replied in a voice
which told how deep was the well of misery in her being.

"It is as old as Allah," he replied.

"Or as old as Cain?" she responded, then added quickly, "Hush! He is
coming."

An instant afterwards she was outside among the peach trees, and
Rudyard and Stafford faced each other in the room she had just left.

As Al'mah stood looking into the quivering light upon the veld, her
fingers thrust among the blossoms of a tree which bent over her, she
heard horses' hoofs, and presently there came round the corner of the
house two mounted soldiers who had brought Krool to Brinkwort's Farm.
Their prisoner was secured to a stirrup-leather, and the neckcloth was
still binding his mouth.

As they passed, Krool turned towards the house, eyes showing like
flames under the khaki trooper's hat, which added fresh incongruity to
the frock-coat and the huge top-boots.

The guard were now returning to their post at the door-way.

"What has happened?" she asked, with a gesture towards the depar