"I see that I have misjudged you. I
underestimated you. I thought, indeed, that your rare qualities were
qualified by painful weaknesses. But now I see that you are a man, and
from this moment we shall act together with open minds. So you have done
it? Tush, then I need not have taken my trip. The work is done; the
mines come to me as the heir of Jack. And yet, poor boy, I pity him! He
misjudged me; he should not have ventured to this deal with Lord Nick
and his compatriots!"

"Wait," exclaimed Donnegan. "You're wrong; Landis is not dead."

Once more the colonel was checked, but this time the alteration in his
face was no more than a comma's pause in a long balanced sentence. It
was impossible to obtain more than one show of emotion from him in a
single conversation.

"Not dead? Well, Donnegan, that is unfortunate. And after you had
punctured him you had no chance to send home the finishing shot?"

Donnegan merely watched the colonel and tapped his bony finger against
the point of his chin.

"Ah," murmured the colonel, "I see another possibility. It is almost as
good--it may even be better than his death. You have disabled him, and
having done this you at once take him to a place where he shall be under
your surveillance--this, in fact, is a very comfortable outlook--for me
and my interests. But for you, Donnegan, how the devil do you benefit by
having Jack flat on his back, sick, helpless, and in a perfect position
to excite all the sympathies of Lou?"

Now, Donnegan had known cold-blooded men in his day, but that there
existed such a man as the colonel had never come into his mind. He
looked upon the colonel, therefore, with neither disgust nor anger, but
with a distant and almost admiring wonder. For perfect evil always wins
something akin to admiration from more common people.

"Well," continued the colonel, a little uneasy under this silent
scrutiny--silence was almost the only thing in the world that could
trouble him--"well, Donnegan, my lad, this is your plan, is it not?"

"To shoot down Landis, then take possession of him and while I nurse him
back to health hold a gun--metaphorically speaking--to his head and make
him do as I please: sign some lease, say, of the mines to you?"

The colonel shifted himself to a more comfortable position in his chair,
brought the tips of his fingers together under his vast chin, and smiled
benevolently upon Donnegan.

"It is as I thought," he murmured. "Donnegan, you