fact remains that she is dead and that he is suspected."

"Only suspected?"

"Well, . . ."

"By God!" cried Granger, bringing down his fist in Strangeways' face,
"but you shall tell me! Was her name Mordaunt, and was she his
partner, and did she wear a man's disguise?"

Strangeways turned his head and dodged aside so that the blow fell
lightly; drawing his revolver, he covered his opponent. Granger
advanced close up, until the barrel of the revolver touched his face;
then he halted and waited.

Strangeways watched him; looked into his eyes amazed; then lowered his
weapon and laughed nervously. "Oh," he said, "I remember, you are not
afraid of death."

"But I am of madness and suspense."

Strangeways did not reply at once. Perhaps a sudden understanding had
dawned on him, pity and a vision of what it meant to live through the
eternal Now at Murder Point. He may have been asking himself, "For the
lack of one small untruth, shall I thrust this man into Hell?" At any
rate, when he answered he spoke gently. "No," he said, "she wore a
woman's dress; be sure of it, your girl-friend is safe up there."

Granger looked at him steadily, wondering why he should have lied;
than he took his hand and pressed it in the English manner, "I believe
you," he said. Yet, at the back of his mind a voice was persistently
questioning, "Do I believe him? But can I believe that?"

He was interrupted in his thoughts by Strangeways saying, "It's a pity
that that poor brute should suffer; he's certain to die."

The corporal went near, levelled his revolver and shot the leader
between the eyes. The bullet did its work; the dog shivered, and
tottered, rolled over on its side, tried to rise again, then stretched
itself out wearily as if for sleep at the end of a hard day's travel.

"You can do that for a mere husky," said Granger bitterly; "but you
refuse to do it for a man."

"The husky had a harsh time of it in this world and has no other
life."

"If that's so, he's to be congratulated; but there was the more reason
why he should have been allowed to live his one life out. We wretched
men are never done with life; if I were sure that there was only one
existence and no reproaches in a future world, I could be brave to the
end. It's this repetition of mortality, which men call immortality,
that staggers my intellect, making me afraid--afraid lest there is no
death."

Strangeways shrugged his shoulders and scowled. He did not like the