ck was marvellous. In two hours the limit
was reached. I owed you ten thousand pounds, and had lost The Mere. You
laughed, and said, 'Well, John, you have had a fair chance. At ten
o'clock this morning I shall expect you to pay me _your debt of honor_.'
I rose; the devil of despair strong upon me. With one hand I swept the
cards from the table into the fire, and with the other seized you by the
throat, and dealt you a blow upon the temple. You fell dead upon the
floor."

Need I say that as I heard this fearful narrative, I recognized the
actions of the sleep-walker, and understood them all?

"To the end!" said the hollow voice. "Confess to the end!"

"The doctor who examined your body gave his opinion, at the inquest,
that you had died of apoplexy, caused by strong cerebral excitement. My
evidence was to the effect that I believed you had lost a very large sum
of money to Captain Bludyer, and that you had told me you were utterly
unable to pay it. The jury found their verdict accordingly, and I was
left in undisturbed possession of The Mere. But the memory of my crime
haunted me as only such memories can haunt a criminal, and I became a
morose and miserable man. One thing bound me to life--my daughter. When
Reginald Westcar appeared upon the scene I thought that the debt of
honor would be satisfied if he married Agnes. Then Bludyer reappeared,
and he told me that he knew that I had killed you. He threatened to
revive the story, to exhume your body, and to say that Aldina Ringwood
had told him all about the will. I could purchase his silence only by
giving him my daughter, the heiress of The Mere. To this I consented."

As he said these last words, Mr. Maryon sunk heavily into the chair.

The figure of Geoffrey Ringwood placed one ghostly hand upon his left
temple, and then passed silently out of the room. I started up, and
followed the phantom along the corridor--down the staircase--out at the
front door, which still stood open--across the snow-covered lawn--into
the plantation; and then it disappeared as strangely as I first had seen
it; and, hardly knowing whether I was mad or dreaming, I found my way
back to The Shallows.

* * * * *

For some weeks I was ill with brain-fever. When I recovered I was told
that terrible things had happened at The Mere. Mr. Maryon had been
found dead in Sir Henry Benet's room--an effusion of blood upon the
brain, the doctors said--and the body of Col