“I shall save your soul, James Brood,” a voice was saying, but it seemed far away. “He shall not die. Your poor, wretched soul may rest secure. I shall keep death away from him. You shall not have to pay for this; no, not for this. The bullet was meant for me. I owe my life to him, you shall owe his to me. But you have yet to pay a greater debt than this can ever become. He is your son. You owe another for his life, and you will never be out of her debt, not even in hell, James Brood!” Slowly Frederic's eyes opened again. They wavered from one face to the other and there was in them the unsolvable mystery of divination. As the lids drooped once more, Brood's manner underwent a tremendous change. The stupefaction of horror and doubt fell away in a flash and he was again the clear-headed, indomitable man of action. The blood rushed back into his veins, his eyes flashed with the returning fire of hope, his voice was steady, sharp, commanding. “The doctor!” he cried in Yvonne's ear, as his strong fingers went out to tear open the shirt-bosom. “Be quick! Send for Hodder; we must save him.” She did not move. He whirled upon her fiercely. “Do as I tell you! Are you so----” “Dr Hodder is on the way now,” she said dully. His hands ceased their operations as if checked by a sudden paralysis. “On the way here?” he cried incredulously. “Why------” “He is coming,” she said fiercely. “I sent for him. Don't stop now, be quick! You know what to do. Stanch the flow of blood. Do something, man! You have seen men with mortal wounds, and this man _must_ be saved!” He worked swiftly, deftly, for he did know what to do. He had worked over men before with wounds in their breasts, and he had seen them through the shadow of death. But he could not help thinking, as he now worked, that he was never known to miss a shilling at thirty paces. She was speaking. Her voice was low, with a persistent note of accusation in it. “It was an accident, do you understand? You did not shoot to kill him. The world shall never know the truth, unless he dies, and that is not to happen. You are safe. The law cannot touch you, for I shall never speak. This is between you and me. Do you understand?” He glanced at her set, rigid face. “Yes. It was an accident. And this is between you and me. We shall settle it later on. Now I see you as you are--as Yvonne. I--wonder------” His hand shook with a sudden spasm of indecision. He had again caught that baffling look in her dark eyes. “Attend!” she cried, and he bent to the task again. “He is not going to die. It would be too cruel if he were to die now and miss all the joy of victory over you, his lifelong foe. He------” The door opened behind them and they looked up to see the breathless Hindu. He came straight to the woman.