va so hot
that in places it was difficult to walk upon it. Across this bed, that
trembled as I passed over it, went de Garcia somewhat slowly, for now he
was weary, and I followed him at my ease, getting my breath again.

Presently I saw that he had come to the edge of the crater, for he
leaned forward and looked over, and I thought that he was about to
destroy himself by plunging into it. But if such thoughts had been in
his mind, he forgot them when he had seen what sort of nest this was
to sleep in, for turning, he came back towards me, sword up, and we met
within a dozen paces of the edge. I say met, but in truth we did not
meet, for he stopped again, well out of reach of my sword. I sat down
upon a block of lava and looked at him; it seemed to me that I could not
feast my eyes enough upon his face. And what a face it was; that of a
more than murderer about to meet his reward! Would that I could paint to
show it, for no words can tell the fearfulness of those red and sunken
eyes, those grinning teeth and quivering lips. I think that when the
enemy of mankind has cast his last die and won his last soul, he too
will look thus as he passes into doom.

'At length, de Garcia!' I said.

'Why do you not kill me and make an end?' he asked hoarsely.

'Where is the hurry, cousin? For hard on twenty years I have sought you,
shall we then part so soon? Let us talk a while. Before we part to meet
no more, perhaps of your courtesy you will answer me a question, for I
am curious. Why have you wrought these evils on me and mine? Surely
you must have some reason for what seems to be an empty and foolish
wickedness.'

I spoke to him thus calmly and coldly, feeling no passion, feeling
nothing. For in that strange hour I was no longer Thomas Wingfield, I
was no longer human, I was a force, an instrument; I could think of my
dead son without sorrow, he did not seem dead to me, for I partook of
the nature that he had put on in this change of death. I could even
think of de Garcia without hate, as though he also were nothing but a
tool in some other hand. Moreover, I KNEW that he was mine, body and
mind, and that he must answer and truly, so surely as he must die when
I chose to kill him. He tried to shut his lips, but they opened of
themselves and word by word the truth was dragged from his black heart
as though he stood already before the judgment seat.

'I loved your mother, my cousin,' he said, speaking slowly and
painfully; 'f