Humphrey's brow grew damp as he listened to the strange whispers of the water; and then he looked once more at the path, wondering whether the horrible noise had been heard, for just then the buccaneer came into sight and walked slowly toward the old temple. But the echoes of that plash were too much shut up in the vast hollow below, and the buccaneer, still with his arms folded and chin resting upon his chest, walked on, evidently to enter the old building. Humphrey hesitated for a moment, half intending to boldly meet his captor; but he shrank from the encounter, and weakly backed away farther into the darkness, till he was in the dim chamber where the coffin lay draped as before, and the strange figures of the old idols sat around. There was no time for further hesitation. He must either boldly meet the buccaneer or hide. He chose the latter course, glancing round for a moment, and then stepping cautiously into one of the recesses behind a sitting figure, where he could stand in complete darkness and wait till the buccaneer had gone. The latter entered the next moment, and Humphrey felt half mad with himself at his spy-like conduct, for as he saw dimly the figure enter, he heard a low piteous moan, and saw him throw himself upon his knees beside the draped coffin, his hands clasped, and his frame bending with emotion, as in a broken voice he prayed aloud. His words were incoherent, and but few of the utterances reached the listening man's ears, as he bit his lips with anger, and then listened with wonder at what seemed a strange revelation of character. "Oh, give me strength!" he murmured. "I swore revenge--on all--for the wrongs for the death--loved--strength to fight down the weakness--to be--self--for strength--for strength--to live--revenge--death." The last word of these agonised utterances was still quivering upon the air as if it had been torn from the speaker's breast, when the dimly-seen doorway was suddenly darkened, and there was a quick movement. Humphrey Armstrong's position was one which enabled him, faint as was the light, to see everything--the draped coffin, the kneeling figure bent over it prostrate in agony of spirit, and a great crouching form stealing softly behind as if gathering for a spring. Was it Bart? No; and the doorway was again darkened, and he saw that two more men were there. Friends? Attendants? No. There was the dull gleam of steel uplifted by the figure bending over the buccaneer. Assassination without doubt. The moment of peril had come, lightly as it had been treated, and, stirred to the heart by the treachery and horror of the deed intended, Humphrey sprang from his place of concealment, struck the buccaneer's assailant full in the chest, and they rolled out together on the temple floor.