"And the friend he--_I_ refused to betray?"

"I was that friend," answered Thorpe, his voice with every moment
sounding more and more like the cry of the wind. "You gave your life in
agony to save mine."

"And again, in this life, we have all three been together?"

"Yes. Such forces are not soon or easily exhausted, and justice is not
satisfied till all have reaped what they sowed."

Jones had an odd feeling that he was slipping away into some other state
of consciousness. Thorpe began to seem unreal. Presently he would be
unable to ask more questions. He felt utterly sick and faint with it
all, and his strength was ebbing.

"Oh, quick!" he cried, "now tell me more. Why did I see this? What must
I do?"

The wind swept across the field on their right and entered the wood
beyond with a great roar, and the air round him seemed filled with
voices and the rushing of hurried movement.

"To the ends of justice," answered the other, as though speaking out
of the centre of the wind and from a distance, "which sometimes is
entrusted to the hands of those who suffered and were strong. One wrong
cannot be put right by another wrong, but your life has been so worthy
that the opportunity is given to--"