den jerk the car settled deeper in the torrent. Only by
straining to the uttermost could Dean keep his mouth to the air above
the swirl of waters.

"Help!" he screamed to the bridge above. "I'll be drowned! Help!"

The minister began to pray aloud: "Lord, Thou hast been pleased to call
me, and I come. Receive my soul in pity, and forgive me my many sins.
And, oh Lord God, grant that this my young friend may live to see the
light and to worship Thee. Let this be his hour of repentance. Start him
upon a new path, and keep his feet from straying. In thy mercy save him
that he might live to Thy glory. Show him what Thou hast shown me,
and----"

The minister's hand dropped suddenly forward, and the waters closed over
him with a snarl.

From the bridge far above a man was being lowered on a rope, like a
spider hanging from a thread.

Dean watched him with paralyzed tongue. The strain to keep his head
above the waters was racking him like a torment of the Inquisition. The
horror of the situation grew with every second. Why did they lower so
slowly? Would release ever come in time to save him?

His hour of repentance! Yes, the preacher was right. This was his
punishment for the part he had taken in the fraudulent personation of
Clifford Matheson. It came to Dean like a blinding flash of light that
God was demanding of him whether he would repent or no--whether he would
vow to run straight for the future.

The man on the rope was growing larger. His face held the solemnity of
an Eternal Judge. In his two hands were scrolls marked Riches and
Poverty. He held them out towards Dean, demanding his instant choice.
The young man begged for a moment to consider. He shut his eyes against
the decision thrust upon him. A voice thundered in his ears....

CHAPTER XXIII

LARSSEN'S MAN ONCE AGAIN

Of the eleven passengers in the car that plunged over the bridge, Arthur
Dean was the only one saved. Nine had been drowned in the interior of
the car when it crashed amongst the rocks of the torrent. Only Dean and
the minister, standing in the observation platform at the rear of the
car, had had a chance of life, and the minister had died before help had
reached him. The shock affected Dean more seriously than his injuries,
which were nothing worse than severe bruises and cuts. He knew that he
had had a miraculous escape, and the horror of the peril wove in and out
of his thoughts as he lay in hospital at Fort William, haunting