the hour. In two minutes then the barrack clock would strike three.
That would be as good as counting.

In a clear voice he called out to his opponent: "Listen to what I say,
Heppner. In two minutes the clock down there will strike three times.
At the first stroke we must lift our revolvers, before that they must
be pointed to the ground. Between the first and the third strokes we
may fire, but not after the third. Do you understand, and are you
agreed?"

For the first time the sergeant-major made an articulate sound. "All
right," he said. His voice sounded husky, and he cleared his throat.

"Very good," said Heimert; "then it's all settled."

He took up his position, and looked coolly before him. The moon shone
down from a clear sky. A single light cloud floated against the dark
background, looking like a little white skiff.

Heppner watched the cloud. He tried to think how he came to be in this
place, up on the hill in the wood, in the middle of the night, like
this. He could not quite make it out. More than all there weighed on
him a leaden feeling of weariness. He would have liked to throw himself
down on the bare earth.

The seconds dragged on slowly.

Suddenly a night-bird screamed loudly from a neighbouring tree-top, and
immediately afterwards sounded the first stroke of the hour.

The sergeant-major pulled himself up. With suddenly awakened senses he
looked about him. Opposite him stood Heimert with his revolver, and he
himself felt the butt-end of a weapon in his right hand.

But this was all madness. It was a crime. He wanted to cry out, "Stop!"
This folly was impossible. If anything happened to him he was lost.
There was money missing from the battery cash-box; at least he must put
that right.

Then came the second stroke. Stop! Stop! Why was his tongue tied?

Heimert saw him draw himself up. He thought his adversary was going to
fire, and he raised his revolver hastily. His forefinger pressed the
trigger. The sound of the shot echoed through the air, and almost
simultaneously the clock struck for the third time.

Heppner remained a moment standing. His revolver rattled to the ground,
his left hand clutched at his breast. Then the tall upright figure
lurched forward, and fell like a lifeless mass. A violent shudder ran
through the limbs; the body contracted, stretched itself again, turned
over on itself, and fell on its back.

Then all was still.

Heimert stood in his place. The hand with the