e to walk to Transley's house
before eight o'clock.

Zen received him at the door; the maid had gone to a neighbor's, she
said, and Wilson was in bed. It was still bright outside, but the
sheltered living-room, to which she showed him, was wrapped in a soft
twilight.

"Shall we have a lamp, or the fireplace?" she asked, then inferentially
answered by saying that a cool wind was blowing down from the mountains.
"I had the maid build the fire," she continued, and he could see the
outline of her form bending over the grate. She struck a match; its glow
lit up her cheeks and hair; in a moment the dry wood was crackling and
ribbons of blue smoke were curling into the chimney.

"I have been so anxious to see you--again," she said, drawing a chair
not far from his. "A chance remark of yours last night brought to memory
many things--things I have been trying to forget." Then, abruptly, "Did
you ever kill a man?"

"You know I was in the war," he returned, evading her question.

"Yes, and you do not care to dwell on that phase of it. I should not
have asked you, but you will be the better able to understand. For years
I have lived under the cloud of having killed a man."

"You!"

"Yes. The day of the fire--you remember?"

Grant had started from his chair. "I can't believe it!" he exclaimed.
"There must have been justification!"

"YOU had justification at the Front, but it doesn't make the memory
pleasant. I had justification, but it has haunted me night and day. And
then, last night you said he was still alive, and my soul seemed to rise
up again and say, 'I am free!'"

"Who?"

"Drazk."

"DRAZK!"

"Yes. I thought I had killed him that day of the fire. It is rather an
unpleasant story, and you will excuse me repeating the details, I know.
He attacked me--we were both on horseback, in the river--I suppose
he was crazed with his wild deed, and less responsible than usual. He
dragged me from my horse and I fought with him in the water, but he was
much too strong. I had concluded that to drown myself, and perhaps him,
was the only way out, when I saw a leather thong floating in the water
from the saddle. By a ruse I managed to flip it around his neck, and the
next moment he was at my mercy. I had no mercy then. I understand how
it might be possible to kill prisoners. I pulled it tight, tight--pulled
till I saw his face blacken and his eyes stand out. He went down, but
still I pulled. And then after a little I found m