"I sold men who had shared their all with me--who had spared the coats off their backs when I was sick, the food for their stomachs when I was hungry. They trusted me with their secrets. I was a sailor--I'd had a hand shot away for my country. God tell why my head wasn't shot away! And first I betrayed my own true friends and hoarded the money, and felt no smart from that. And next I sneaked upon a nation. They took me along with the rest and put me in the cachot, that none might guess and turn and kill me. Then, when night came, they thrust me out--me and my money and my liberty! And out of the thunder came what I suffer now. Tell me why I didn't see the punishment sooner and escape it? Tell me why the money looked different till 'twas mine? And tell me what's left for me?" "There's death for you and for me," said Malherb. "That's the same as hell. Just judge! Then take my knife. You that fear ter let blood--let more. You was sent ter do it. Then you'll be forgiven, and your durned tender conscience will prune its feathers and pipe up again. Kill me. Let me get the worst of hell over; for thoughts of things are worse than any things themselves can be. I hoped the lightning would do it; but 'twouldn't foul its blade with me. I thought a great red-eyed bull would do it, and stood in his path; but he knew, and turned out of the road; he wouldn't red his horn with me." "You see yourself," said Malherb solemnly, "even as I see myself--too late. You are the second who has asked me to kill them since the sun rose. The first I took at her word, and she is dead." "A woman! One less to breed men." "There may be repentance for you, if you can endure life till memory grows blunt. For me there can be nothing but increasing horror at my crime. Nothing can save me now." "I reckon we have done the worse that was in our nature ter do," said the American. "That's nought--so have many and slept no worse. The scourge is that we've been made ter feel it." "You are right; we feel; therefore we suffer. Farewell," answered Maurice Malherb. Leverett did not reply, and the other passed out of his sight. One man plunged onward, never resting, never halting; one sat like a stone with his chin resting on his palm and his handless arm hanging beside him. The light of the stars was reflected on the knife at his feet; and presently a glitter caught his eye; whereupon he stooped and picked up the blade. CHAPTER XII THE VOICE