e and Joyce looked at each other.

"You divined it," he murmured.

"Yes, to a certain extent. This Lozcoski must have justice, and so--so
must Murfree."

"Yet you will hate to punish him, I can see!" His eyes, looking down
into hers, were soft and shining, and held that little twinkle of tender
ridicule which he seemed to reserve for her. She no longer resented it,
however. She knew the loyalty that tempered it. She said in the same low
tone,

"I want a question asked."

"The queen has but to command."

"Thanks, sir courtier. Ask who commanded that war-ship they spoke of."

Dalton turned to the interpreter, who put the question.

Lozcoski shook his head in replying, and the other explained, "He has
forgotten."

"Then let him tell about the night he came to the Social-house,"
suggested the "queen," and the narrative was resumed.

It was not long. Lozcoski, while in prison, brooded over the wrong done
him, day and night. When the fire gave him opportunity, he managed to
escape with two other convicts, and leaving them at the first chance, he
made his way to Littleton, resolving never to leave there until he had
punished his man. He had chanced upon Dan's retreat, evidently, and had
lived as he could for days, but on extremely short rations, as the
fields were all harvested and berry time over. At night he would walk
into town and wait around, hoping to see his victim. But the old man was
wary and nearly always traveled in company. If Lozcoski had possessed a
revolver he could have made short work of him, but having no means to
procure any he had to wait for a personal encounter. The night he came
to the Social-house he had been three days without food, and was insane
with hunger. He had but two ideas in his disordered brain--to eat, and
to kill. He must do the first in order to gain strength for the second.
Even the actual sight of his enemy, before the door of the refreshment
room, could not detain him from the food that he had caught sight of
through the door. His hunger partly appeased, he had started out boldly
to find Murfree, who fled for home on seeing him. Finding no one there,
however, and afraid to be alone, he had rushed back again, feeling
safety in numbers. He was just in time to meet his avenger in the hall,
and in spite of the onlookers, the Pole's terrible onslaught had nearly
finished him.

Dalton put several searching questions, then assuring the prisoner,
through the interpreter, that matt