ied. He had been stabbed in
saving her from Durade's gang. And Hough, too, was killed.

Neale, I looked at Allie Lee, and then I understood your ruin. You fool!
She was not dead, but alive. Innocent and sweet like an angel! Ah, the
wonder of it in Benton! Neale, she did not know--did not feel the kind
of a woman I am. She changed me--crucified me. She put her face on my
breast. And I have that touch with me now, blessed, softening.

I locked her in a room and hurried out to find you. For the first time
in years I had a happy moment. I understood why you had never cared for
me. I respected you. Then I would have gone to hell for you. It was my
joy that you must owe your happiness to me--that I would be the one to
give you back Allie Lee and hope, and the old, ambitious life. Oh, I
gloried in my power. It was sweet. You would owe every kiss of hers,
every moment of pride, to the woman you had repulsed. That was to be my
revenge.

And I found you, and in the best hour of my bitter life--when I had
risen above the woman of shame, above thought of self--then you, with
hellish stupidity, imagined I was seeking you--YOU for myself! Your
annoyance, your scorn, robbed me of my wits. I could not tell you. I
could only speak her name and bid you come.

You branded me before that grinning crowd, you struck me! And the fires
of hell--MY hell--burst in my heart. I ran out of there--mad to kill
your soul--to cause you everlasting torment. I swore I would give that
key of Allie Lee's room to the first man who entered my house.

The first man was Larry Red King. He was drunk. He looked wild. I
welcomed him. I sent him to her room.

But Larry King was your friend. I had forgotten that. He came out with
her. He was sober and terrible. Like the mad woman that I was I rushed
at him to tear her away. He shot me. I see his eyes now. But oh, thank
God, he shot me! It was a deliverance.

I fell on the stairs, but I saw that flaming-faced devil kill four of
Durade's men. He got Allie Lee out. Later I heard he had been killed and
that Durade had caught the girl.

Neale, hurry to find her. Kill that Spaniard. No man could tell why he
has spared her, but I tell you he will not spare her long.

Don't ever forget Hough or Ancliffe or that terrible cowboy. Ancliffe's
death was beautiful. I am cold. It's hard to write. All is darkening. I
hear the moan of wind. Forgive me! Neale, the difference between me and
Allie Lee--is a good man's love.