s for one swimming upon its surface. And the
river is deep, its current rapid, the "reach" they are in, full of
dangerous eddies. In addition, it is a spot infested, as all know--the
favourite haunt of that hideous reptile the alligator, with the
equally-dreaded gar-fish--the shark of the South-western rivers. All
these things are in Jessie Armstrong's thoughts.

Amidst these dangers are the two dearest to her on earth; her sister,
her lover. Not strange that her apprehension is almost an agony!

Meanwhile the steamer's boat has been manned, and set loose as quickly
as could be done. It is rowed towards the spot, where the swimmer was
last seen; and all eyes are strained upon it--all ears listening to
catch any word of cheer.

Not long have they to listen. From the shadowed surface comes the
shout, "_Saved_!"

Then, a rough boatman's voice, saying:

"All right! We've got 'em both. Throw us a rope."

It is thrown by ready hands, after which is heard the command, "Haul
in!"

A light, held high upon the steamer, flashes its beams down into, the
boat. Lying along its thwarts can be perceived a female form, in a
dress once white, now discoloured and dripping. Her head is held up by
a man, whose scant garments show similarly stained.

It is Helen Armstrong, supported by Dupre.

She appears lifeless, and the first sight of her draws anxious
exclamations from those standing on the steamer. Her sister gives out
an agonised cry; while her father trembles on taking her into his arms,
and totters as he carries her to her state-room--believing he bears but
a corpse!

But no! She breathes; her pulse beats; her lips move in low murmur; her
bosom's swell shows sign of returning animation.

By good fortune there chances to be a medical man among the passengers;
who, after administering restoratives, pronounces her out of danger.

The announcement causes universal joy on board the boat--crew and
passengers alike sharing it.

With one alone remains a thought to sadden. It is Jessie: her heart is
sore with the suspicion, that _her sister has attempted suicide_!

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

THE SLEEP OF THE ASSASSIN.

On the night after killing Clancy, Richard Darke does not sleep
soundly--indeed scarce at all.

His wakefulness is not due to remorse; there is no such sentiment in his
soul. It comes from two other causes, in themselves totally,
diametrically distinct; for the one is fear, the other love.