e did not answer, but stared at her with horror. Slowly his eyes
wandered over the room, for the first time taking in its details. Then
he put on his cap and started for the door.

"Where are you going?" Edith demanded, in an agony of apprehension.

His hand was on the door-knob, and he half turned as he answered, "To dig
some graves."

"Don't leave me, Hans, with--" her eyes swept the room--"with this."

"The graves must be dug sometime," he said.

"But you do not know how many," she objected desperately. She noted his
indecision, and added, "Besides, I'll go with you and help."

Hans stepped back to the table and mechanically snuffed the candle. Then
between them they made the examination. Both Harkey and Dutchy were
dead--frightfully dead, because of the close range of the shot-gun. Hans
refused to go near Dennin, and Edith was forced to conduct this portion
of the investigation by herself.

"He isn't dead," she called to Hans.

He walked over and looked down at the murderer.

"What did you say?" Edith demanded, having caught the rumble of
inarticulate speech in her husband's throat.

"I said it was a damn shame that he isn't dead," came the reply.

Edith was bending over the body.

"Leave him alone," Hans commanded harshly, in a strange voice.

She looked at him in sudden alarm. He had picked up the shot-gun dropped
by Dennin and was thrusting in the shells.

"What are you going to do?" she cried, rising swiftly from her bending
position.

Hans did not answer, but she saw the shot-gun going to his shoulder. She
grasped the muzzle with her hand and threw it up.

"Leave me alone!" he cried hoarsely.

He tried to jerk the weapon away from her, but she came in closer and
clung to him.

"Hans! Hans! Wake up!" she cried. "Don't be crazy!"

"He killed Dutchy and Harkey!" was her husband's reply; "and I am going
to kill him."

"But that is wrong," she objected. "There is the law."

He sneered his incredulity of the law's potency in such a region, but he
merely iterated, dispassionately, doggedly, "He killed Dutchy and
Harkey."

Long she argued it with him, but the argument was one-sided, for he
contented himself with repeating again and again, "He killed Dutchy and
Harkey." But she could not escape from her childhood training nor from
the blood that was in her. The heritage of law was hers, and right
conduct, to her, was the fulfilment of the law. She could see no other
righteous c