Finger Mine till only two of the tribe who knew its secret remained.
Then it was that my father came along. He was a brave man, and an
adventurer to his finger tips. Moreover, he was a doctor. His healing
art made those rough men his friends, and when their time came, my
father was left in possession of the mine. How that mine was guarded and
how the spirit of the place took its vengeance upon intruders, you know
too well. Ah, I have touched you now."

Fenwick had risen, and was pacing uneasily up and down the room. All the
dare-devil spirit seemed to have left the man for a moment; he turned a
troubled face on the cripple huddled in his chair. He seemed half
inclined to temporise, and then, with a short laugh, he resumed his own
seat again.

"You seem to be very sure of your ground," he sneered.

"I am," the cripple went on. "What does it matter what becomes of a
melancholy wreck like myself? Doctors tell me that in time I may become
my old self again, but in my heart I doubt it, and as sure as I sit here
the mere frame-work of a human being, my injuries are due to you. I
might have had you shot before now, or I might even have done it myself,
but I spared you. It would have been a kindness to cut your life short,
but I had another use for you than that. And now, gradually, but surely,
the net is closing in around you, though you cannot yet see its meshes,
and you are powerless to prevent the inevitable end."

"You seem to have mapped it all out," Fenwick replied. "You seem to have
settled it all to your own satisfaction, but you forget that I may have
something to say in the matter. When I discovered, as I did quite by
accident, that you were in London, I laid my plans for getting you into