. Then, a few weeks ago, he learned that these
two were coming to America and that on their way to Vancouver they
would pass through Bleak House Station. He went completely mad then, and
planned to destroy them, and rob the train. You know how he and his gang
did the job. After it was over and they had got the money, he let his
gang go on ahead of him while he went back to the wreck of the sleeper.
He wanted to make sure that they were dead. Do you see?"

"Yes," said Philip tensely, "go on."

"And when he got there," continued the other, bowing his head as he
filled an old briar pipe with tobacco, "he found some one else. It's
strange--and you may wonder how I know it all. But it's true. Back in
England he had worshipped a young girl. Like the others, she detested
him; and yet he loved her and would have died for her. And in the wreck
of the sleeper he found her and her father--both dead. He brought her
out, and when no one was near carried her through the night to his
horse. The knowledge that he had killed her--the only creature in the
world that he loved--brought him back to sanity. It filled him with a
new desire for vengeance--but vengeance of another kind. To achieve
this vengeance he was compelled to leave her dead body miles out on the
prairie. Then he hurried to overtake his comrades. As their leader he
had kept possession of the money they had taken from the express car.
The division was to be made at the water hole. The gang was waiting for
him there. The money was divided, and two of the gang rode ahead. The
other two were to go in another direction so as to divide the pursuit.
The remittance man remained with them, and when the others had gone a
distance he killed them both. He was sane now, you understand. He had
committed a great crime and he was employing his own method of undoing
it. Then he was going back to bury--her."

The man's voice broke. A great sob shook his frame. When he looked up,
Philip had drawn his revolver.

"And the remittance man--" he began.

"Is myself--Jim Blackstone--at your service."

The man turned his back to Philip, hunched over, as if bent in grief.
For a moment he stood thus. There followed in that same moment the loud
report of a pistol, and when Philip leaped to catch his tottering form
the glaze of death was in the outlaw's eyes.

"I was going to do this--back there--beside her," he gasped faintly. A
shiver ran through him and his head dropped limply forward.

Phil