s worse perhaps than Dupont,
for he was in a different sphere of life, was rich beyond counting, and
had been early nurtured in quiet Christian surroundings. The spirit of
ambition, rivalry, and the methods of a degenerate and cruel finance had
seized him, mastered him; so that, under the cloak of power--as a toreador
hides the blade under the red cloth before his enemy the _toro_--he held a
sword of capital which did cruel and vicious things, at last becoming
criminal also. Henderley had incited and paid; the others, Dupont and
Lygon, had acted and received. Henderley had had no remorse, none at any
rate that weighed upon him, for he had got used to ruining rivals and
seeing strong men go down, and those who had fought him come to beg or
borrow of him in the end. He had seen more than one commit suicide, and
those they loved go down and farther down, and he had helped these up a
little, but not near enough to put them near his own plane again; and he
could not see--it never occurred to him--that he had done any evil to
them. Dupont thought upon his crimes now and then, and his heart hardened,
for he had no moral feeling; Henderley did not think at all. It was left
to the man of the reedy lake to pay the penalty of apprehension, to suffer
the effects of crime upon a nature not naturally criminal.

Again and again, how many hundreds of times, had Roger Lygon seen in his
sleep--had even seen awake, so did hallucination possess him--the new
cattle trail he had fired for scores of miles. The fire had destroyed the
grass over millions of acres, two houses had been burned and three people
had lost their lives; all to satisfy the savage desire of one man, to
destroy the chance of a cattle trade over a great section of country for
the railway which was to compete with his own--an act which, in the end,
was futile, failed of its purpose. Dupont and Lygon had been paid their
price, and had disappeared and been forgotten--they were but pawns in his
game--and there was no proof against Henderley. Henderley had forgotten.
Lygon wished to forget, but Dupont remembered, and meant now to reap fresh
profit by the remembrance.

Dupont was coming to-night, and the hatchet of crime was to be dug up
again. So it had been planned.

As the shadows fell, Lygon roused himself from his trance with a shiver.
It was not cold, but in him there was a nervous agitation, making him cold
from head to foot; his body seemed as impoverished as his mind.