And then he looked at Hawkins--and stared again at the other, startled. Strange, he had not noticed it before! The smile on Hawkins' face did not hide it. The man seemed to have aged a thousand years; the old face was pinched and worn, and deep in the faded, watery blue eyes were hurt and agony. And a great sympathy for the man surged upon John Bruce. He could not tell Hawkins, but---- He reached out, and laid his hand on the other's arm. “Don't take it too hard, Hawkins,” he said gently. “I--perhaps--perhaps, well, there's always a last chance that something may happen.” “Me?” said Hawkins, and bent down over his gears as he got the signal to move forward. “Do I look like that? I--I thought it all out last night, and I don't feel that way. I'll tell you what I was thinking about. I was just thinking that I did something to-day when I left my room that I haven't done before--in twenty years. I've left the light burning.” John Bruce stared a little helplessly. “Yes,” said Hawkins. He smiled at John Bruce. “Don't you worry about me. Mabbe you don't understand, but that's all I've been thinking about since we've been waiting here. I've left the light burning.” Sick at heart, John Bruce turned his head away. He made no response. Hawkins paid the fare, ran the car through the ferry house, and aboard the ferry itself. He was fumbling with a catch of some kind behind his seat, as he proceeded slowly up the run-way. “He'll want a little air in there,” said Hawkins, “because it's close down here. It opens back, you know--the whole panel. I had it made that way when the car was turned into a traveling pawn-shop--didn't know what tough kind of a customer Paul might run into sometime, and I'd want to get in beside him quick to help, and I----” The old cabman straightened up. The car was at the extreme forward end of the ferry--and suddenly it leaped forward. “Jump, John Bruce! Jump clear!” old Hawkins cried. “There's only two of us going all the way--and that's Crang and me! Claire and Paul 'll be along in another car--tell them it was an accident, and----” John Bruce was on his feet--too late. There was a crash, and the collapsible steel gates went down before the plunging car, and the guard chain beyond was swept from its sockets. He reeled and lost his balance as something, a piece of wreckage from the gates or chain posts, struck him. He felt the hot blood spurt from shoulder and arm. And then, as the car shot out in mid-air, diving madly for the water below, and he was thrown from his feet, he found himself clinging to the footboard, fighting wildly to reach the door handle. Claire was in there! Claire was in there!