He held it in a great grip and closed his eyes and prayed. When he
opened his eyes again it was almost deep night in the room, and Pierre
had passed from youth to manhood. Through the gloom nothing stood out
distinctly save the white face of the dead man, and from that Pierre
looked quickly away.

One by one he numbered his obligations to Martin Ryder, and first and
last he remembered the lie which had soothed his father. The money for
that corner plot where the grass grew first in the spring of the
year--where was he to find it? He fumbled in his pocket and found only
a single coin.

He leaned back against the wall and strove to concentrate on the
problem, but his thoughts wandered in spite of himself. Looking
backward, he remembered all things much more clearly than when he had
actually seen them. For instance, he recalled now that as he walked
through the door the two figures which had started up to block his way
had left behind them some playing-cards at the corner table. One of
these cards had slipped from the edge of the board and flickered
slowly to the floor.

With that memory the thoughts of Pierre le Rouge stopped. The picture
of the falling card remained; all else went out in his mind like the
snuffing of the candle. Then, as if he heard a voice directing him
through the utter blackness of the room, he knew what he must do.

All his wealth was the single half-dollar piece in his pocket, and
there was only one way in which that coin could be increased to the
sum he would need to buy that corner plot, where the soul of old
Martin Ryder could sleep long and deep.