e's down-stairs. He's been waiting all day hoping you'd want to see
him."

Sydney summoned Friedrich. He uttered an exclamation of sorrow as he
saw the big black eyes looking from their hollows, and the white face
of the man so suddenly brought to this pass from the full tide of
strength.

"For-r my sake!" he groaned. "How with all my soul I wish it were I!"

He took Bob's other hand--Sydney had resumed her old position--and
tried to command his voice. It was Bob who spoke first:

"What about Pressley?"

Von Rittenheim looked questioningly at Sydney, who nodded.

"He's dead, Bob."

A ray from the setting sun found its way to the bed and lighted up the
dying man's face.

"Kind of sudden for him, too," he mused. "Did he live any time at all?"

"No. Your bullet went through his heart. He must have died instantly."

"It's a mighty serious thing to do, to kill a man. I never realized
before how serious it was. But I'm not sorry."

"You saved my life, Bob. I can't talk about it. Only, I'd give it
gladly, gladly, to keep you, old man."

He bent his head with a sob.

"Never mind that, Baron. I suspect Yarebrough'll be all the better for
not having Pink to lead him into mischief."

"It has saved him from a heavy punishment. They found in Pr-ressley's
pocket a letter offering to turn State's evidence."

"That would have sent Bud to jail and freed himself, wouldn't it?"
asked Sydney.

"Yes. He must have been afraid of betrayal."

"No," cried the girl; "I'm sure he planned the whole thing to spite
Melissa. I heard him threatening her one day. He said he'd make her
sorry she ever married Bud."

"I think you're right, Sydney," said Bob. "He was working Bud all
summer, I'm confident, with the purpose of betraying him at the end."

He sank a little into the pillow, and Sydney gave von Rittenheim a
glance of dismissal.

"You're tired, dear," she said to Bob.

"A little. I think I'll take a nap. Oh, Baron, I almost forgot. I was
in Asheville a few days ago,--Monday, Tuesday,--I don't know when," he
went on, weakly, "and I met a man who said he thought he knew you. He's
at the hotel,--a German."

"Did he tell you his name?"

"I can't remember. Something long. He said if you were Friedrich von
Rittenheim from the Black Forest that he knew you well, and would you
look him up? You will, won't you?"

"Yes, I will."

"If you don't, he'll think I've broken my promise."

"I will. He shall know that you told me.