"Yes," from Hardy. "Got it in the head, eh?" the ranger went on, looking down at Pell, but with no pity in his face. He was too accustomed to death. A man who had been killed was just another "case" to him--one of an endless row of corpses. Angela came up to the table. "He's really dead?" she breathed, and clung to "Red's" big arm. "Who was he?" Bradley inquired. Hardy motioned to the mute Lucia, sitting so quietly in the chair. "Her husband. Name's Pell." "Sorry for you, lady," said Bradley, perfunctorily, as he might have said "Good-morning." He turned now to go. "Don't touch him till the coroner comes," he commanded. "Mind what I say." "But officer--" began Hardy. "Can't stop," Bradley waved him aside. "Now we _gotter_ get him." He went out as swiftly as he had come in. Every instant was precious. There was not a second to be lost. And still Lucia did not stir a muscle. It was as if she had been turned to stone. A silence fell upon them all. "Red" sat down on the little window-seat, his Angela beside him. Hardy tried to smoke. They could hear the clock ticking on and on--that little clock which had heard so much as its hands moved around the dial during the last few pregnant hours. Suddenly Uncle Henry, who had been looking at Morgan Pell's huddled form, cried out; "Hey, what's comin' off?" Had the darkness deceived him? "Red" jumped at the question. "What's the matter?" His nerves were on edge. "He moved!" cried Uncle Henry, excited now, and rising in his chair, which he wheeled out into the room. "Moved!" cried "Red." "You're crazy! He's stone dead, if ever anyone was." "I seen him--I swear I seen him!" Uncle Henry's eyes were almost popping from his head. "Why didn't someone do something? Why didn't they see what he saw? Oh, to be able to walk, and not sit forever like a dried mummy in this chair! "But how could he have moved?" "Red" exclaimed. "He's dead, I say!" "I don't know how he could!" Uncle Henry cried, "but he did! Look at him!" He could scarcely control himself now. "Maybe Lopez didn't kill him after all," "Red" said, and knelt down to examine Pell's body again. "Now don't tell me that!" Uncle Henry yelled. "Ain't we got trouble enough here without him comin' back?" He could have stood any calamity, it seemed, but the return to life of this wretched Morgan Pell. "By golly!" "Red" exclaimed, on his knees, his hand on Pell's white face. "Was I right?" Uncle Henry said. "Red" rose slowly. His voice was almost a whisper. "He's alive!" he breathed. Gilbert, who had not taken Uncle Henry's word seriously, could not doubt "Red's" verdict. "Alive!" he said. "Oh, it can't be!" For the first time Lucia moved. Her lips opened. "Alive!" she managed to say. Again the world crumbled for her. "It was only a flesh wound," "Red" said. "The bullet just grazed his head."