"You know that you are hurt beyond chance of recovery, Carne," the magistrate said, gravely. "It is a terrible story that you have told us. I think that you ought to put it down on paper, so that other people may know how it was done; because, you see, at present, an innocent man is suspected." "What do I care? That is nothing to me one way or the other. I am glad I have succeeded in frightening Ronald Mervyn away, and I hope he will never come back again. You don't suppose I am going to help to bring him home!" Mr. Volkes saw that he had made a mistake. "Yes, I quite understand you don't want him back," he said, soothingly. "I thought, perhaps, that you would like people to know how you had sacrificed yourself to put an end to the curse, and how cleverly you had managed to deceive every one. People would never believe us if we were to tell them. They would say either that you did not know what you were talking about, or that it was empty boasting on your part." "They may think what they like," he said, sullenly; "it is nothing to me what they think." There was a change in the tone of his voice that caused the doctor to put his hand on his wrist again. "Let me give you a few drops more of brandy, Carne." "No, I will not," the dying man said. "I suppose you want to keep me alive to get some more out of me, but you won't. I won't speak again." The others held a whispered conversation in the corner. "He is going fast," the doctor said. "It is a marvel that his voice is as strong as it is. He certainly won't live till morning. It is likely he may die within an hour." "I will ask him another question or two," Mr. Volkes said. "If we could but get something to corroborate his story, it would be invaluable." But Reginald Carne spoke no more. He heard what was said to him, for he laughed the same malicious laugh that had thrilled the crowd as he stood on the parapet, but it was low and feeble now. In hopes that he might yet change his mind, Mr. Volkes and the clergyman remained with Dr. Arrowsmith for another hour. At the end of that time Reginald Carne startled them by speaking again, clearly and distinctly: "I tell you it's all over, you witch; you have done us harm enough, but I have beaten you. It was you against me, and I have won. There is nothing more for you to do here, and you can go to your place. Carne's Hold is down, and the curse is broken." As he ceased speaking the doctor moved quietly up to the side of the stretcher, put his finger on his wrist, and stood there for a minute, then he bent down and listened. "He is gone," he said, "the poor fellow is dead." The three gentlemen went outside the cottage; some of the people were standing near waiting for news of Reginald Carne's state. "Mr. Carne has just died," the doctor said, as he went up to them. "Will one of you find Mrs. Wilson and tell her to bring another woman with her and see to him? In the morning I will make arrangements to have him taken down to the village."