journey. At the door, as he opened it to go, he turned for just an
instant upon Steele, who was still holding the revolver in his hand.

"Remember, Bucky," admonished Philip in a quiet voice, "it's all for the
good of yourself and the service."

Fear had gone from Nome's face. It was filled now with a hatred so
intense that his teeth shone like the fangs of a snarling animal.

"To hell with you," he said, "and to hell with the service; but
remember, Philip Steele, remember that some day we'll meet again."

"Some day," laughed Philip. "Good-by, Bucky Nome--deserter!"

The door closed and Nome was gone.

"Now, M'sieur Janette, it's our turn," cried Steele, smiling
companionably upon the skull and loading his pipe. "It's our turn."

He laughed aloud, and for some time puffed out luxurious clouds of smoke
in silence.

"It's the best day's work I've done in my life," he continued, with his
eyes still upon the skull. "The very best, and it would be complete,
M'sieur, if I could send you down to the woman who helped to kill you."

He stopped, and his eyes leaped with a sudden fire. "By George!" he
exclaimed, under his breath. His pipe went out; for many minutes he
stared with set face at the skull, as if it had spoken to him and its
voice had transfixed him where he stood. Then he tossed his pipe upon