"We went out past the sentry, and walked down by the sullen river's edge, the dog padding behind us. "'You have been provocative,' said Farrell, after a while, checking himself by an afterthought in the act of clearing his throat. 'Considering our relative positions, I am rather surprised at your daring to take this line. . . . But you used a word just now. It was 'forgive.' I came not only to say that I am going to marry Miss Denistoun, but to propose that henceforth the account is closed between us. You must tell yourself that I have won; and, having won, I bear no further malice. I would even make some reparation on the shrine of my affection for Miss Denistoun. She would esteem it, I feel sure, as a tribute. . . . Dear me, how fast we are walking! . . . You'll excuse me if I stop and take off this coat. . . . In the old days, as a working-man, more than half my time I walked without a coat, and an overcoat to this day always sets up a perspiration. . . . Well now, shall we shake hands at the end of it all and cry quits? . . . Say the word, and I'll go one better. They've formed the syndicate for that island of ours. What do you say to a thousand shares, and to coming in on the Board?' "He was on the river side of me, quite close to the brink. I had been playing for some minutes with the knife in my pocket; and as I leapt on him and drove it in over the breast, he fell straight backwards. All the end of Farrell was a gasp, a sharp cry, and a splash. "And both cry and splash were drowned instantly by the raging yelp of the dog as he sprang for me. I fisted him off by his throat and he fastened his teeth in my right hand, tearing the flesh down as I slipped the knife into my left hand. Then with my left I jabbed sideways under his ribs, and his bite relaxed, and he dropped. "The embankment was steep. I ran down a little way and came to a disused landing-stage--four or five planks on rotting piles. Kneeling there, I lowered my bleeding hand, to bathe it. . . . As I knelt the body of Farrell came floating down-stream and was borne in towards me by the eddy. It lodged against the piles, chest uppermost, its white, wide-open eyes turned up to the moon. "--And I stared on it, Roddy, crouching there. _And I swear to God it was not Farrell's face but my own that I stared into_. "Yes . . . for I stared and stared at it--there, plain, looking up far beyond me, sightless--until a swirl of the tide washed it clear; and, as it passed out into darkness, it seemed to be sinking slowly, slowly. "I dragged myself away and ran back to the dead dog. Farrell's overcoat lay close beside it, and his hat--which had fallen short of the edge of the embankment as he pitched backwards.