uzzled the clever ones. The Rothschilds hardly knew,
eh, Jem? Well, you always were a swell. And so you mean to marry the
gal? Well, I warn you; it's getting too hot. Better cut off together
till the scent's cold. There, I've warned you. I thought so: nabbed.
All right, gentlemen, I'll come quietly. Easy with my mate. Going to
be married this morning. Do you hear, Stratton? married this morning!
My wife, you can have her. My little widow. Hush! quiet, will you. We
shall never do it. Oh, yes, I'm game. Ugh, hard work. They're after
us, and we shall have to rush 'em. Right, Jem. I'll stand any risk.
Hold together, and then down the rocks!"

The man's face was working horribly, and his eyes were dilated with
excitement as he rambled on wildly, mingling up the past in one tangle
of confusion as he, in brief, gave suggestions to the horrified
listeners of the various scenes enacted in his life.

"Now, then," he whispered, "ready. Off. Ah!" he shrieked, "don't
shoot--don't shoot. Cowards! Ugh! the water--a long swim--but it's for
life--for life; and poor old Jem--handsome Jem, shot--shot!"

The man's whole manner changed; the twitching of the muscles, the
excited playing of the nerves, and the wild look in the eyes gave place
to the vacant, heavy stare, and his hand rose slowly to his neck, and
played about the back of his ear.

"Shot," he said, "shot," looking up at the admiral and smiling. "A
bullet--behind the ear--never found it yet--never found--"

"Quick!" cried Stratton, stepping forward so as to hide the ghastly
contortions that crossed the man's face from the ladies clinging
together in a frightened group.

"Yes," said Brettison, with a sigh of relief, "for Heaven's sake,
officers, take him away."

They bore him instantly toward the boat, just as Myra uttered a low sigh
and fainted dead away.

It was some minutes before she came to again, to find Stratton kneeling
by her side holding her hand, while the others stood a little aloof.

For a few moments there was a wild and wondering look in her eyes, but
it was softened directly by her tears, as she whispered:

"I don't quite grasp it all, Malcolm. Only tell me that is it true--
that you really love me, dear?"

"As true as that I can hold your hand in mine, clear from all stain, and
that you are free--my love, my wife."

"But," cried the admiral in the further explanations which ensued, "do I
understand, my lad, that you all along