"Thank God that you did not, my son!" Mr. Britton exclaimed, strangely agitated by Darrell's words; "you do not know what the cost might have been in the end; what bitter remorse, what agony of ceaseless regret!" He stopped abruptly, and again Darrell felt that he had looked for an instant into those depths so sacredly guarded from the eyes of the world. "You did well to leave as you did," Mr. Britton said, after a moment's silence, in which he had regained his composure. "I had to; I should have done something desperate if I had remained there much longer." Darrell spoke quietly, but it was the quiet of suppressed passion. "It was better so--better for you both," Mr. Britton continued; "when we find ourselves powerless to save our loved ones from impending trouble, all that is left us is to help them bear that trouble as best we may. The best help you can give Kate now is to take yourself as completely as possible out of her life. How you can best help her later time alone will show." A long silence followed, while both watched the flickering flames and listened to the crooning of the wind outside. When at length they spoke it was on topics of general interest; the outlook at the mining camp, the latest news in the town below, till their talk at last drifted to the recent hold-up. "A dastardly piece of work!" exclaimed Mr. Britton. "The death of that young express clerk was in some ways even sadder than that of Harry Whitcomb. I knew him well; the only child of a widowed mother; a poor boy who, by indomitable energy and unswerving integrity, had just succeeded in securing the position which cost him his life. Two such brutal, cowardly murders ought to arouse the people to such systematic, concerted action as would result in the final arrest and conviction of the murderer." "It is the general opinion that both were committed by one and the same party," Darrell remarked, as his friend paused. "Undoubtedly both were the work of the same hand, in all probability that of the leader himself. He is a man capable of any crime, probably guilty of nearly every crime that could be mentioned, and his men are mere tools in his hands. He exerts a strange power over them and they obey him, knowing that their lives would pay the forfeit for disobedience. Human life is nothing to him, and any one who stood in the way of the accomplishment of his purposes would simply go the way those two poor fellows have gone." "Why, do you know anything regarding this man?" Darrell asked in surprise. "Only so far as I have made a study of him and his methods, aided by whatever information I could gather from time to time concerning him." "Surely, you are not a detective!" Darrell exclaimed; "you spoke like one just now."