that I will not rest day nor night until he has paid the
penalty of this murder. And tell him I swore this on the honor of an
English gentleman."

"And say I swore it, too!" cried Denny; and Hogvardt and Watkins, not
making bold to speak, ranged up close to me; and I knew that they also
meant what I meant.

The old woman looked at me with searching eyes.

"You are a bold man, my lord," said she.

"I see nothing to be afraid of up to now," said I. "Such courage as
is needed to tell a scoundrel what I think of him, I believe I can
claim."

"But he will never let you go now. You would go to Rhodes, and tell
his--tell what you say of him."

"Yes, and farther than Rhodes, if need be. He shall die for it as sure
as I live."

A thousand men might have tried in vain to persuade me; the treachery
of Constantine had fired my heart and driven out all opposing motives.

"Do as I bid you," said I, sternly, "and waste no time on it. We will
watch here by the old man till you return."

"My lord," she replied, "you run on your own death. And you are young,
and the young man by you is yet younger."

"We are not dead yet," said Denny; and I had never seen him look as
he did then; for the gayety was out of his face, and he spoke from
between stern-set lips.

She raised her hands toward heaven--whether in prayer or in
lamentation, I do not know. We turned away and left her to her sad
offices, and going back to our places, waited there till dawn began to
break, and from the narrow windows we saw the gray crests of the waves
dancing and frolicking in the early dawn. As I watched them the old
woman was by my elbow.

"It is done, my lord," said she. "Are you still of the same mind?"

"Still of the same," said I.

"It is death--death for you all," she said; and without more she went
to the great door. Hogvardt opened it for her, and she walked away
down the road, between the high rocks that bounded the path on either
side. Then we went and carried the old man to a room that opened off
the hall, and, returning, stood in the doorway, cooling our brows in
the fresh, early air. And while we stood, Hogvardt said suddenly:

"It is five o'clock."

"Then we have only an hour to live," said I, smiling, "if we do not
make for the yacht."

"You're not going back to the yacht, my lord?"

"I'm puzzled," I admitted. "If we go this ruffian will escape. And if
we don't go--"

"Why, we," Hogvardt ended for me, "may not escape."

I sa