led him--killed him without mercy.

"I will spare you a repetition of the detail, which to you would be
horrible; and it was horrible. Yet, even then I did not regret it, nor
have I ever done so since. But the instinct of self-preservation arose
at once. Had he fallen in an open and daylight quarrel, sympathy would
have been with me, or at any rate I should have been held harmless. But
there was a dark and murderous look about a secret and midnight deed,
which would in all probability mean swift and unreasoning retribution.
So by way of obscuring the trail I hid away the money, thinking, like
the fool I was, that that would divert suspicion from myself, that no
one would suspect _me_ of killing a man for the sake of a few hundred
dollars. Another idea occurred to me. The Sioux were `bad' around
there just then. By putting their mark upon the body--the throat
cutting--I might throw the suspicion on to them. Then I departed,
intending to return shortly and affect unbounded surprise. But I fell
in with a war-party, and was clean cut off from the settlements; and the
running I had to make for nearly two weeks right through the Indian
country simply bristles with marvels. Well, the affair was after all a
very commonplace instance of vendetta, with no sordid motive underlying
it. There the dollars are still; I could put my hand upon them at any
moment, unless, that is to say, somebody else has already done so, which
isn't probable. Now you have the whole story, and can hardly be
surprised that I had learned caution, and was not one to give away all
my life's history to the latest comer."

Mona made no reply; she could not at first. The wild ecstasy of joy
with which she listened to this revelation was too great--for she
believed every word of it, only wondering how she could ever have
believed anything to the contrary. It resolved itself into a mere
accidental affair, a tussle--a fight for life. Moreover, she could
hardly realise it. The thing had happened so far away, so long ago,
that the recital of it seemed more like a book narrative, a story at
second hand, than the confession of a terrible deed of blood at the lips
of him who had perpetrated it. There were a few moments of silence as
they stood gazing at each other's faces in the darkness. Then came a
startling interruption. A whirring rush through the air, and something
fell--plashed down upon them where they stood. One of the heavy showers
hanging