went off. That was the story at the inquest. No one knew I was there.
I was never seen with him and I've never been sorry. He got what he
deserved--sacre, yes!"

There was something overwhelming in the face of the little resolute,
powerful man. His eyes were aflame. He was telling for the first time
the story of his lifelong agony and shame.

"It had to be done. She was young, so sweet, so good, aye, she was good-
in her soul she was good, ah, surelee. That's why she died in the pond.
No one knew. The inquest did not bring out anything, but that's why he
died; and ever since I've been mourning; life has no rest for me.
I'm not sorry for what I did. I've told it you because you saved me
years ago when I fell down the bank. You were only fourteen then,
but I've never forgotten. And she, that sweet young lady, she--she was
there too; and now when I look at this Tarboe, the brother of that man,
and see her and know what I know--sacre!" He waved a hand. "No-no-no,
don't think there's anything except what's in the soul. That man has
touched ma'm'selle--I don't know why, but he has touched her heart.
Perhaps by his great bulk, his cleverness, his brains, his way of doing
things. In one sense she's his slave, because she doesn't want to think
of him, and she does. She wants to think of you--and she does--ah,
bagosh, yes!"

"Yes, I understand," remarked Carnac morosely. "I understand."

"Then why do you let her be under Tarboe's influence? Why don't--"

Carnac thrust out a hand that said silence. "Denzil, I'll never forget
what you've told me about yourself. Some day you'll have to tell it to