hould fail him at such a pinch as this, and for motives of caution
alone, was a circumstance so preposterous and unheard-of that Derrick's
credulity was hardly equal to the strain.

He began to wonder if this stranger who had guided him into safety, from
what he now realized to be a positive death-trap, had given him a wholly
unexaggerated account of Carlyon's attitude.

He waited awhile, thinking the matter over with rising indignation; and
at length, as the noise below him subsided, he moved from his shelter to
find his informant. It was a rash thing to do, but prudence was not his
strong point. Moreover, the Secret Service man had aroused his
curiosity. He wanted to see more of this fellow. So, with an
indifference to danger, foolhardy, though too genuine to be
contemptible, he strolled across an unprotected space of moonlight to
join him.

Two seconds later he was lying on his face, struggling with the futile,
convulsive effort of a stricken man to recover his footing. And even
while he struggled, he lost consciousness.

He awoke at length as one awakes from a troublous dream, and looked
about him with a dazed consciousness of great tumult.

The space in which he lay was no longer wide and empty. The white world
was peopled with demons that leapt and surged around his prostrate body.
And someone, a man in white, with naked, uplifted arms, stood above him
and quelled the tumult.

Derrick saw it all, heard the mad yells lessen and die down, watched
with a dumb amazement the melting away of the fierce crowd.

And then the man who stood over him turned suddenly and, kneeling,
lifted him from his prostrate position. It was a man in native dress
whose eyes held for Derrick an odd, half-familiar fascination.

Where had he met those eyes before? Ah, he remembered. It was the Secret
Service man. And that was strange, too. For Carlyon always scoffed at
Secret Service men. Still, this was a small matter which, no doubt,
would right itself. Everything looked a little peculiar and distorted on
this night of wonders. Carlyon himself had sadly degenerated in his
opinion since the morning. Bother Carlyon!

Suddenly a great sigh burst from Derrick, and the moonlight broke up
into tiny, dazzling fragments. The darkness was full of them, alive
with them.

"Fire-flies!" gasped Derrick, and began to cough, at first slowly, with
pauses for breath, then quickly, spasmodically, convulsively. For breath
had finally failed him.