n the way of doing his duty; for the
rest, a man must accept his own responsibility, stand by his own
actions, abide his own fate.

Yet he would have given a great deal, just now, for speech with her, to
tell her that, unimportant though it was, some word from the War Office
had reached him.

Throughout his stroll his mind kept harking back to this letter,
seeking behind the few and formal words for meanings they did not
cover; and again that evening, after his frugal supper, he drew the
envelope from its pigeon-hole, spread the paper on the table before
him, and sat studying it.

He lifted his head, at a sound in the passage. The outer door had been
burst open violently, as though by a gust of wind, and a moment later
Archelaus came running in with a face of panic.

"The Lord behear us!" gasped Archelaus. "Oh, sir, here's awful, awful
news! The Lord Proprietor's been murdered, and his body flung over the
cliff, and Sam Leggo and Abe the gardener be running through the
streets wi' the news of it!"

"Murdered! The Lord Proprietor!" echoed the Commandant, laying down his
glasses and rising to his feet in blankest amaze.

"Yes, sir; shot with his own gun, and, they say, by Eli Tregarthen! The
two men have pulled across from Inniscaw for help, and to fetch the
constable.... I had the news from Sam Leggo hisself, as he raced off to
knock up Mr. Pope."

The Commandant sank back in his chair. Dreadful though the news was, he
saw in a flash that it was not incredible. Eli Tregarthen owed the Lord
Proprietor a grudge, and a bitter one. Eli Tregarthen was a man capable
of brooding over his wrongs and exacting wild justice for them. The
Commandant's thoughts flew to Vashti.

But even as he passed a hand over his eyes, another footstep invaded
the outer passage, and Mr. Pope himself rushed in, mopping his brow.

"My dear friend--" Not in his life before had Mr. Pope addressed the
Commandant as "my dear friend." He glanced from one scared face to the
other. "You have heard? Oh, but it is terrible!... And what on earth
are we to do?"

"I beg your pardon," answered the Commandant, recovering his presence
of mind. "'We,' did you say?"

"Naturally I came first to you.... You being a magistrate, and--if this
dreadful news be true--the chief magistrate left on the Islands."

"True," said the Commandant, yet more quietly. He had regained his
self-possession. "I had forgotten. To be sure, I had renounced the
office--as I sup