t
meant that he was a menace to honest people, a danger to England, a
danger to the peace and weal of the country which had given Paul
birth--the country for which so many of his relatives had given their
lives, the country which he loved. There could be no quarter for such a
man. The longer he was at large the greater the danger.

"He's in my power completely. A word from me will send him to prison,"
Paul said to himself. "To prison he shall go this very night."

Full of this determination, Paul turned to the gate. It was a couple of
miles to the police-station, but what of that? He would soon cover the
distance, and be back again at Garside. So he started on his journey
with a run. He had not gone far, however, before a still, small voice
began to whisper plaintively in his ear. It was the voice of
Hibbert--the pleading, pathetic voice that had become so dear to him.

"Paul, Paul! Are you forgetting the promise you made to me so soon? Was
it for this I told you my secret? Reveal my story to the police, and you
will kill me--kill me, as surely as though you were to thrust a knife in
my breast."

That was what the voice seemed saying to him. Paul pulled himself up
with a jerk. What was he about to do? Betray Hibbert, the poor boy who
had entrusted him with his secret! Betray Hibbert, who had clung to him
and loved him through good report and evil, who had never shrunk from
him when one by one the boys at Garside had shrunk from him as from a
leper! God help him! What was he about to do?

He was about to turn back when that other voice whispered to him: "Your
country first and foremost. You have a higher duty than the duty you
owe to Hibbert--the duty to your country. Besides, this boy's father
betrayed your father. Why should you shrink from betraying him? Eye for
eye, tooth for tooth. Pay back the debt that has been owing so long."

Paul hastened on again, but again he paused as another voice--a voice
that was full of wondrous and sublime melody--sounded in his ear:
"Vengeance is mine, I will repay."

It seemed to him as he stood there in the moonlight, the stillness so
great and solemn that he could hear his heart throb, that God had
spoken. The danger to his country was not so great that it called upon
him to give up the secret which had been entrusted in confidence to his
keeping.

He could not be true to himself or his country by being false to
Hibbert!

He would wait. Hibbert would get better. If the da