there was no fear upon his face.

"Come on, murderer," he said, addressing Swart Piet, "and do your
butcher's work. Why do you delay? You cannot often find the joy of
slaughtering a defenceless man in the presence of his new-made wife.
Come on then and win the everlasting curse of God."

Now Swart Piet glanced at him out of the corners of his round eyes; then
he ordered one of the Kaffirs to go up to him and shoot him.

The man went up and lifted his gun, but presently he put it down again
and walked away, saying that he could not do this deed. Thrice did Van
Vooren issue his command, and to three separate men, the vilest of his
flock, but with each of them it was the same; they came up lifting their
guns, looked into Ralph's grey eyes and slunk away muttering. Then,
cursing and swearing in his mad fury, Swart Piet drew the pistol from
his belt and rushing towards Ralph fired it into him so that he fell.
He stood over him and looked at him, the smoking pistol in his hand, but
the wide grey eyes remained open and the strong mouth still smiled.

"The dog lives yet," raved Swart Piet; "cast him into the sea, and let
the sea finish him."

But no man stirred; all stood silent as though they had been cut in
stone, and there, a little nearer the cliff edge, lay the silent form of
Suzanne.

Then Van Vooren seized Ralph and dragged him by the shoulders to the
brink of the precipice. His hair brushed the hair of Suzanne as his body
was trailed along the ground, and as he passed he whispered one word,