racted the pallid
face. The glance rested for a moment on Durham as a faint wan smile
flickered round the corners of the bloodless lips and the eyelids
drooped again.

The sound of his own voice in a hoarse, strained whisper jarred on
Durham's ears.

"You!" he gasped. "_You!_"

The eyes opened once more.

In a weak, wavering tone came disjointed words.

"You said--you--would shoot him--like a dog--and I told you--it
would--kill--me if you--did."

As white as his captive, Durham stood dumbfounded.

The feeling of horror which had come upon him when first he recognised
the face overwhelmed him. His heart went dead and his brain numbed. All
the roseate dreams of his romance turned to dull grey leaden grief to
flaunt and mock him.

Like the panoramic vision said to come to the minds of the drowning, the
incidents on which his love had dwelt in cherishing delight passed
before him. He saw again the sparkling eyes which had filled him with
such gladness when first that love had come to him; saw the picture made
by the wonderfully graceful form leaning against the verandah at Waroona
Downs, bathed in the soft, romantic light of the new-born moon; saw the
pleading face turned to him as the gentle voice spoke endearing words to
gain a passing favour; saw once more that fleeting, taunting vision on
which he had built so much despite the warning to beware of the vagaries
of a delirium-swayed brain.

The visions passed. Before him, crippled and ghastly in the last agony
of life, lay the author of this diabolical outrage upon every
sensibility of his manhood.

A rage of blind, ungovernable fury swept over him. The primitive
instinct of revenge, the savage longing to wreak, while there was yet
time, a last fierce vengeance on the one who had betrayed him, filled
his being. With a cry which ended in a curse he sprang to where his
carbine lay, seized it by the barrel, and swung it round his head as he
turned back upon his prisoner.

A gasping sigh came from the prostrate form, and the head rolled lolling
to one side.

The carbine fell from Durham's hands and he stood motionless, looking
down at the figure from which all signs of life had gone.

As quickly as it had come the paroxysm of rage left him.

The man was dying, if not dead, and the hideous riddle of the mystery
still unsolved!

He must not die! He must not pass beyond the reach of human knowledge
with the truth of that tragic drama in which he had played t