s'pose there is nowadays would do what you done for the sake of a woman?"

Once more, as in that meeting on the beach, a light began to grow slowly in his mind. Just so a man underground might see, far ahead, the day glimmering in the mouth of some burrow.

He drew himself free, without violence or scorn. The blood running in his veins was his own again, under control.

"You 're right," he replied slowly, "right in a way. I begin to see— By the Lord, it was that! That's a straw to catch at, anyway. There's a chance, after all."

His tone showed that he had forgotten her.

"What are you after now?" she whipped out. "Don't go moonin' again, now we understand each other."

She made as if to put her hands on his shoulders, but he drew back, regarding her gravely.

"It's queer,"—his voice, too, was very grave, and trembled,—"it's queer to hear a murderer talk of conscience, and all that—but let Him judge, wherever He is. I 've