th upon--"

"Hush, Mr. Trenoweth! As for your ravings, I love to hear them, and
could listen by the hour, did not time press. But I cannot have you
talking so loudly, you understand;" and he toyed gently with his
knife; "also remember I must be at Dead Man's Rock by half-past
eleven to-night."

"Fiend!" I continued, "you can kill me if you like, but I will count
your crimes with my last breath. Take my life as you took my friend
Tom Loveday's life--Tom whom you knifed in the dark, mistaking him
for me. Take it as you took Claire's, if ever man--"

"Claire--Claire dead!" He staggered back a step, and almost at the
same moment I thought I caught a sound on the other side of the
partition at my back. I listened for a moment, then concluding that
my ears had played me some trick, went on again--

"Yes, dead--she killed herself to-night at the theatre--stabbed
herself--oh, God! Do you think I care for your knife now?
Why, I was going to kill myself, to drown myself, at the very moment
when I heard your voice and came on board. I came to kill you.
Make the most of it--show me no mercy, for as there is a God in
heaven I would have shown you none!"

What was that sound again on the other side of the partition?
Whatever it was, Colliver had not heard, for he was musing darkly and
looking fixedly at me.

"No, I will show you no mercy," he answered quietly, "for I have
sworn to show no mercy to your race, and you are the last of it.
But listen, that for a few moments before you die you may shake off
your smug complacency and learn what this wealth is, and what kind of
brood you Trenoweths are. Dog! The treasure that lies by Dead Man's
Rock is treasure weighted with dead men's curses and stained with
dead men's blood--wealth won by black piracy upon the high seas--gold
for which many a poor soul walked the plank and found his end in the
deep waters. It is treasure sacked from many a gallant ship,
stripped from many a rotting corpse by that black hound your
grandfather, Amos Trenoweth. You guessed that? Let me tell you
more.

"There is many a soul crying in heaven and hell for vengeance on your
race; but your death to-night, Jasper Trenoweth, shall be the
peculiar joy of one. You guessed that your grandfather had crimes
upon his soul; but you did not guess the blackest crime on his
account--the murder of his dearest friend. Listen. I will be brief
with you, but I cannot spare myself the joy of letting you kn