it, Jim?” he asked, with quavering voice. “Documents?”
Mr. Hamilton shot a furious glance at his questioner. There was a look in the lean, craven face and hungry, piercing eyes, which did not take his fancy. He was aware that he had talked too much. The fumes of the spirit had worked like fire in his brain. What had he said? Perhaps it would be safer—
He drew out his revolver, and began to examine the priming. He spat on the barrel and polished it, glancing every now and then at his companion, who was almost falling off his seat with terror.
There was an intense silence between the two men, so deep that the faint night sounds from the wood, and the music of the softly flowing river in the valley below, floated in through the open doorway to their ears. Suddenly they both gave a great start. Skein sprang up with a cry of fear. His partner, leaning over, seized him fiercely by the arm.
“Listen, you d—d fool!” he muttered savagely. “If you breathe a word I’ll knock your brains out!”
They listened motionless. A slight rustling sound again broke the deep night hush. What was it? A sudden breeze in the tree-tops, a stray wolf attracted by the light, or the faint rustling of a woman’s gown over the short grass?
“Some one has been lying there listening!” Mr. Hamilton hissed. “Quick!”
He staggered towards the door, the revolver in his hand. Half-way there, he reeled against the wall. The shanty was spinning round. He was blind drunk. He held out the revolver to Skein.
“Take it quick!” he muttered. “Outside! Blaze away!”
Skein snatched it from him, and rushed to the doorway. But he did not even glance out. He turned round and faced his partner. His cheeks were ghastly pale, and his eyes seemed starting from his head.
“Not inside, you blarsted idiot!” yelled Mr. Hamilton. “What the hell are you doing? D—n!”
Two shots rang out, one after the other. Mr. Hamilton, with a fearful oath upon his lips, fell sideways across the floor, with his hand pressed to his side. His partner, throwing down the revolver, leaped through the thick smoke, and knelt over the fallen body. His tongue was protruding between his teeth, and his eyes seemed starting from his head. With shaking fingers he commenced to undo the wounded man’s coat. Before he got to the last button Mr. Hamilton opened his eyes, and he drew back with a shriek.
“You’ve—done for me—you devil!” muttered Mr.
Hamilton. “Oh, if I could feel my hands around—around your neck!”
“Give me the—paper in your coat, and I’ll leave you alone!” Skein whispered. He was breathing hard, and his lips and eyeballs were burning. It was not quite so easy to kill a man, after all! Mr. Hamilton thrust his hand into his breast, and his partner bent eagerly down. It was a rashness of which he had reason to repent, for, instead of the paper, he received Mr. Hamilton’s fist full in his face. He staggered against the wall, sick and dizzy. Then the wounded man raised himself with a little moaning cry.
“Myra!” he gasped. “Myra! he’s shot me! Hold him!”
Skein turned round, quaking. Standing upon the threshold, with the moonlight falling upon her white, horrified face, and her slender figure clearly outlined against the deep blue sky, was the girl from the shanty opposite. He did not hesitate for a moment. He leaped past her like a cat, and went headlong down the gorge. She did not try to stop him. Her limbs were paralyzed with horror.
“Myra!” he faltered. “I’m done! Will you come here?”
She did not hesitate then for a moment. She fell on her knees by his side, and took his hand. She forgot her loathing, and she forgot her wrongs. She forgot everything except that she was a woman!
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