n a croaking whisper.

"It's hell for me--either way. Living or dead--hell!"

The paroxysm spent itself and passed like an evil spirit. The
struggle for which she had prepared herself did not come. Instead,
the flickering lids closed over the tortured eyes, the clutching
hand relaxed, and there fell a great silence.

She sat for a long time not daring to move, scarcely breathing,
wondering if this were the end. Then gradually it came to her,
that he was lying in the stillness of utter exhaustion. She felt
for his pulse and found it beating, weakly but unmistakably. He
had sunk into a sleep which she realized might be the means of
saving his life.

Thereafter she sat passive, leaning against a chair, waiting,
watching, as she had waited and watched for so long. Once she
leaned her head upon her hand and prayed "O dear God, let him
live!" But something--some inner voice--seemed to check that
prayer, and though her whole soul yearned for its fulfilment she
did not repeat it. Only, after a little, she stooped very low, and
touched Guy's forehead with her lips.

"God bless you!" she said softly. "God bless you!"

And in the silence that followed, she thought there was a
benediction.

CHAPTER X

THE DESIRE TO LIVE

In the last still hour before the dawn there came the tread of
horses' feet outside the bungalow and the sound of men's voices.

Sylvia looked up as one emerging from a long, long dream, though
she had not closed her eyes all night. The lamp was burning low,
and Guy's face was in deep shadow; but she knew by the hand that
she still held close between her own that he yet lived. She even
fancied that the throb of his pulse was a little stronger.

She looked at Burke with questioning, uncertain eyes as he entered.
In the dim light he seemed to her bigger, more imposing, more
dominant, than he had ever seemed before. He rolled a little as he
walked as if stiff from long hours in the saddle.

Behind him came another man--a small thin man with sleek black hair
and a swarthy Jewish face, who moved with a catlike deftness,
making no sound at all.

"Well, Sylvia?" Burke said. "Is he alive?"

He took the lamp from the table, and cast its waning light full
upon her. She shrank a little involuntarily from the sudden glare.
Almost without knowing it, she pressed Guy's inert hand to her
breast. The dream was still upon her. It was hardly of her own
volition that she answered him.

"Ye