ther too: it's Charles, the valet. They have been
attacked. What is it, Williams? You know me, Simon Dubosc."

The man could hardly speak. He spluttered:

"Bakefield . . . Lord Bakefield. . . ."

"Come, Williams, tell me what happened?"

"Yesterday . . . yesterday. . . ." replied the secretary.

"Yes, yesterday you were attacked. By whom?"

"Rolleston. . . ."

Simon started:

"Rolleston! Did he kill Charles?"

"Yes. . . . I. . . . I was wounded. . . . I have been calling out all
night. And, just now, another man. . . ."

Antonio put a question:

"You were attacked again, were you not, by some thief who wanted to
rob you. . . . And, when he heard us coming, he too stabbed you and
took to his heels? Then he is not far away?"

"There . . . there," stammered Williams, trying to stretch out his
arm.

The Indian pointed to footsteps which led to the left, up the slope of
the hills:

"There's the trail," he said.

"I'll follow it up," said Simon, leaping into the saddle.

The Indian protested:

"What's the use?"

"Use? The scoundrel must be punished!"

Simon went off at a gallop, followed by one of the Indian's
companions, the one who rode the fourth horse and whose name he did
not know. Almost immediately, at five hundred yards ahead, on the
ridge of the hills, a man rose from the cover of some blocks of stone
and made away at the top of his speed.

Two minutes later, Simon reached these blocks and exclaimed:

"I see him! He's going around the lake which we crossed. Let's make
straight for him."

He descended the farther slope and forced his horse into the water,
which, at this point, covered a layer of mud so deep that the two
riders had some difficulty in getting clear of it. When they reached
the opposite shore, the fugitive, seeing that there were only two of
them, turned round, threw up his rifle and covered them:

"Halt," he commanded, "or I fire!"

Simon was going too fast and could not pull up.

At the moment when the shot rang, he was at most twenty yards from the
murderer. But another rider had leapt between them and was holding his
horse, reared on its hind legs, like a rampart in front of Simon. The
animal was hit in the belly and fell.

"Thanks, old chap, you've saved my life!" cried Simon, abandoning the
pursuit and dismounting to succour the other, who was in an awkward
position, jammed under his horse and in danger of being kicked by the
dying brute.

Nevertheless, when Si