un short of our damned tobacco, but a want when the belly is sick
and empty and has no prospect of being filled--a want of necessities.
Four battalions of men in want, and how many children and women does
that represent? God's hooligans, God's scamps, and God's wrecks! '_His
wrecks_,' how can I write such words. How pitiable are their physical
conditions, their privation and distress of body! But what of their
souls, the starvation of their minds? Why, I doubt if they could
subscribe a respectable soul among the whole four battalions.

"Males who might have been men and of some use in the world, if only
a finger had shown them the road instead of shoving 'em down into
wrecks and damnation.

"I can write no more. I must go out and walk about."

Spurling gulped down a sob, and without comment crunched the sheet up
in his hand, and flung it towards the stove; but it fell short and
rolled to where Granger was standing. He stooped, picked it up and
smoothed it out. "I'll put it in my pocket," he said, "to remember
what we were; we may need the reminder on our journey."

"Damn your softness," Spurling broke out. "I want to forget the past,
and to live like the beast I am. How could I shoot down even an Indian
to defend myself, if I were to remember things like that! It's gold
that's changed me; and now that I've got it I intend, at all costs, to
win out."

"Yes, it's gold that's changed us," Granger said.

Presently he paused again. "I had intended to keep that to threaten
you with, but you can have it now," he said.

Spurling rose up from the floor, and coming over to the table took the
paper from him. It was the warrant for his arrest. His hand shook as
he read it.

"Granger, how did you get that?" he asked in a low voice. "Was it from
Strangeways?"

On the spur of the moment, to avoid the direct answering of the
question and that he might learn the exact truth about something else,
he drew forth the locket from his breast.

"What's that?" asked Spurling. "Another reminder?"

"Come and look for yourself."

"I don't want to remember, I tell you."

"But this has something to do with the answer to your question."

Spurling came behind and looked over his shoulder carelessly, not
expecting to see anything which was of much concern. Then he started,
so violently that the portrait fell from Granger's hand. "My God, it
_was_ a woman!" he moaned. "A woman! A woman!"

Granger turned upon him, willing to be angry;