We all simultaneously interpreted the gestures made by Oakes, and Hallen dashed to the north end of the pond to skirt it, while Martin and Moore dashed for the southern end, leaving Elliott, Larkin and myself standing where we commanded full view of what was coming. We were conscious of several other figures dashing by us, and we knew that his men were straining every nerve and muscle to reach Oakes in his dangerous position. It was a long run to skirt either end of the pond, and to swing around the opposite shore, and thence up the sloping sides to Quintus's aid. We three remaining behind were anxious beyond expression. I leaned heavily on Elliott, and really prevented him from joining in the chase, where he would have been useless; the others were so much fleeter of foot. "God--that man Oakes is alone with the murderer!" cried Larkin. "He is too good a man to lose his life in the fight that is coming. Look!" We saw Maloney halt and face about. Then came a slight flash, followed by the heavy report of the revolver in his hand. Quintus was running slowly up toward him and was perhaps one hundred feet away. At the report he staggered, and dropped upon the green, slippery sward. "He is wounded," cried Elliott. I felt sick at heart and weak, and sat down, Larkin by my side; we two were powerless, being only convalescent. "An elegant shot! That Maloney is a crack one," cried the detective. "Yes," said Elliott; "it was determined before that Mark's murderer was a good shot." Then came another report, and we saw that again the murderer had fired. Oakes remained quiet. His body showed sprawled on the hill-side. "Damnation!" cried Elliott. "Is Oakes dead? He does not answer with his revolver." "No," cried Larkin. "I saw him move, and see--he is braced to prevent himself slipping down the hill. He knows he is a poor target, and is not anxious to move lest he slide into the pond. That grass is frosty and very slippery." Then came the delayed crack of Quintus's weapon, and Maloney sprang into the air as he ran. He now went slowly and painfully, lurching forward along the crest of the hill. "Slightly wounded, thank Fate--but Oakes could have killed him had he wished," cried Larkin. We saw Quintus rise and follow Maloney, then drop to his chest again, as the latter wheeled and fired three shots rapidly at him in delirious excitement. Oakes remained quiet and huddled, and despite the fact that Maloney was now an excellent target, he did not fire. "Oakes is hit badly," exclaimed Elliott. Then the speaker did an unexpected thing. Seizing his revolver, he discharged the weapon again and again in the direction of Maloney. "A long shot," he muttered, "but I'll keep him guessing."