"So, that is where Jock Lawson went? He followed your father?"

"Yes. Jock was mad enough when I began--clean gone. But, somehow, the
game I was playing cured him. 'Steady, Jock!' I said. 'Steady!' for I
saw him move. I levelled for the second bead of the halo. My finger was
on the trigger. 'My God, don't shoot!' he called. It startled me, my
hand shook, the thing went off, and Jock had a bullet through his brain.

". . . Then I waked up. Perhaps I had been mad myself--I don't know.
But my brain never seemed clearer than when I was playing that game. It
was like a magnifying glass: and my eyes were so clear and strong that I
could see the pores on their skin, and the drops of sweat breaking out on
Jock's forehead when he yelled."

A low moan came from Lady Belward. Her face was drawn and pale, but her
eyes were on Gaston with a deep fascination. Sir William whispered to
her.

"No," she said, "I will stay."

Gaston saw the impression he had made.

"Well, I had to bury poor Jock all alone. I don't think I should have
minded it so much, if it hadn't been for the faces of those other two
crazy men. One of them sat still as death, his eyes following me with
one long stare, and the other kept praying all the time--he'd been a
lay preacher once before he backslided, and it came back on him now
naturally. Now it would be from Revelation, now out of the Psalms, and
again a swingeing exhortation for the Spirit to come down and convict me