sunshine seemed red. He seemed to awake from a dream. There was his
friend,--the friend he had loved,--nay,--more,--the friend he did love
still. And he? what was he? A murderer:

No one had accused him;--no one even suspected him. Yes there was one.
Her eyes still seemed to glare at him with their mute accusation.

What did he care? She had caused it all. He inwardly cursed her; and
cursing her loved her more madly than ever. There was no revenge in his
breast now.

Hastily throwing on his jacket, he followed the ambulance on which lay
the unconcious body, covered with a sheet through which the blood had
already penetrated. A doctor had been summoned and he said life was not
extinct.

When the Infirmary was reached, Dick entered, no one attempted to
intercept him. But when the body was placed in the accident ward, all
but the doctors and nurses were ordered out. Dick paced the corridor
from end to end incessantly. He could not leave until he knew the worst.

He had long to wait, but at last the doctors appeared.

"He still lives, but there is no hope."

And with that terrible sentence ringing in his ear, he had to leave him.

When he reached the works again, he found them closed, but a crowd of
workers were gathered there. He joined them. They were discussing the
terrible accident.