nce again.

"And did he," said Stratton, in broken words, "attend him--to the end;
did he say--at the inquest--that it was suicide?"

"No," said Brettison, looking up with a start from his musings, and
watching the effect of his words on his companion; "he tended him, but
James Dale, or Barron, did not die. He is living now."

CHAPTER FORTY FIVE.

BRETTISON IS MYSTERIOUS.

"James Barron living now?" cried Stratton excitedly. "Thank Heaven!"

But as the words left his lips his whole manner changed. His face had
lighted up at Brettison's announcement, for the knowledge that he was
not answerable for the convict's death--that he had not slain the
husband of the woman he loved--was a tremendous weight, which had
crushed him down, suddenly removed; but, like a sudden, scathing flash,
came the horror of Myra's position once more.

There was no selfishness in the feeling; his thoughts were solely of and
for her. That man still lived, and she was his wife--tied to an escaped
convict, and at his mercy, unless Brettison had done his duty and handed
him over to the authorities. But with his sympathetic feeling for her,
there came over him a sense of overwhelming despair at his own helpless
position.

He passed his hand across his eyes, threw up his head, and seemed more
like the old Malcolm Stratton, as he held out his hand to his friend,
took that which was eagerly extended to him, and the two men sat, hand
grasped in hand, silently for the space of some minutes.

Brettison was the first to speak.

"Then you think, in spite of all, I did wisely?"

"I think you saved that man's life," said Stratton with a faint, sad
smile upon his lip. "But for you I must have gone to the grave with
that knowledge always on my brain. You have spared me that. I can
sleep without waking to think of that man's blood being on my hands."

"And there is hope for you yet," whispered Brettison earnestly.

"Where?" said Stratton mournfully. "In the other world?"

"Bah! Despairing at your age? Why, man, this life is full of change
and surprise. Nothing comes to pass so often as the unexpected."

Stratton shook his head.

"What! Doubting, in the face of all I have told you just now? Why,
man, my news must have come upon you like a miracle. Come, I shall see
you and Myra happy yet."

"Silence!" cried Stratton sternly. "Impossible! All that is past.
Brettison, I accept my fate in all thankfulness for what I know. If
M