reach her throat."

Even Joan shuddered at the look which seemed to her devilish, Joan,
whose nerves were of iron, and in whom herself the lust for vengeance
was as the cry for blood. Yet this was not possible.

"I think that you are raving," she said. "Did you not know that Douglas
Guest disappeared that night, and was never more heard of--ay, that
there was money missing?"

"Douglas Guest took but his own," he answered. "It is the woman who is
guilty."

She was bewildered.

"Woman, David? Why, there was none who would have harmed a hair of his
head."

Again he laughed, and again she turned pale with the horror of that
unearthly merriment.

"You see but a little way, sister Joan," he said, "and the vengeance you
cry for is in other hands. As for Douglas Guest, leave him alone. He
is as guiltless as you are."

"You have told me so much," she said firmly, "you must tell me more.
How comes it that you know these things?"

He shuddered. His lips moved but she did not catch the sound of words.
He was apparently in a state of collapse. She reached brandy from a