Dick Denver smiled grimly as he finished his exordium--his composure was devilish; he rose, looked once up at the opening above, through which the moon was now visible directly overhead, and then stood immovable, watching his companion. The full horror of his position had at last dawned on Massinger; he was on his feet now, leaning irresolutely against the wall, with staring eyes fixed alternately upon the awful chasm between them and his opponent’s set face. ‘My God!’ he said; ‘you must be mad,--for heaven’s sake, let’s end this fooling.’ But his ashen face showed that he knew it was no fooling, but a grim reality. ‘Time’s up. I shall say “one, two, _three_”; at three we fire.’ The words acted like a cold douche on Massinger; he shivered all over, then braced himself against the rock and set his teeth. ‘D----n you,’ he muttered, ‘I’ll pass out over your body yet.’ Turning to bay with a wolfish glare in his eyes, he lifted his pistol. The angry water, greedy of its prey, was hissing louder and louder between them. ‘One--two--_three_!--’ a double report and a hoarse, stifled cry. Mr Denver staggered back, and his hat, pierced through and through, fell from his head. Recovering himself, he threw one look over the pit to where Massinger lay motionless on his face, shot through the heart; the devil’s water creeping up and brimming over the edge, nearly touched his rigid body. ‘Wonder if the cuss is dead? Can’t leave him to be boiled alive.’ Dick sprang over the brimming, hissing gulf, and lifted the head. ‘As mutton,’ he said, dropping the lifeless mass. With a leap backwards, he gained the entrance, and, passing through, dashed down the hill. Once he paused, and looking back, saw a smoking jet shoot high into the moonlit sky. Some drops of boiling spray fell with a hiss on his face and hands,--Dick shivered and went on his way. AN AFTERTHOUGHT The first streaks of dawn were showing in the east. The long, low, white-verandahed hotel surrounded by a group of palms that wavered unsteadily in the half-light, like a group of ghostly sentinels, was still undisturbed by the coming day. A man standing back in the shadow muttered to himself, as, glancing over his shoulder, he caught the first glow of light on the horizon. Advancing softly, with a spring, he grasped the roof of the verandah, and swung himself up lightly and noiselessly. Climbing the balcony rails, he looked for a moment along the line of French windows opening outwards, then, creeping forward, he passed through one of them into a small empty room, with a larger one adjoining it. Pausing inside, he glanced through the open door into the other room. The night had been stiflingly hot, the windows were open, and from the bed standing in the far corner the mosquito-curtains were thrown back. As his eyes fell upon the bed, Dick Denver shivered, and stood thinking.