“There are worse things than death to a sensitive woman,” he said significantly, “and you shall not die until the end.” He did not attempt to speak again, but, pulling a pack of cards from his pocket, played solitaire. After an hour’s play, he swept the cards into the fireplace and rose. He looked at her and there was something in his eyes that froze her blood. “Perhaps you will never see my face,” he said, and reached out his hand to the oil lamp which stood on the table. Lower and lower sank the flame, and then came a gentle tap at the door. _Tap . . . tap . . . tappity . . . tap!_ The Frog stood still, his hand upon the lamp. _Tap . . . tap . . . tappity . . . tap!_ It came again. He turned up the light a little and went to the door. “Who’s that?” he asked. “Hagn,” said a deep voice, and the Frog took a startled step backward. “Quick! Open!’” The mask turned the heavy bar, and, taking a key from his pocket, he drew back the lock. “Hagn, how did you get away?” The door was pushed open with such violence that he was flung back against the wall, and Ella uttered a scream of joy. Standing in the doorway was a bareheaded man, in a shining trench-coat. It was Joshua Broad. “Keep back!” He did not look round, but she knew the words were addressed to her and stood stock-still. Both Broad’s hands were in the deep pockets of his coat; his eyes did not leave the mask. “Harry,” he said softly, “you know what I want.” “Take yours!” screeched the Frog. His hand moved so quickly that the girl could not follow it. Two shots rang out together and the Frog staggered back against the wall. His foot was within a few inches of the glass cylinders, and he raised it. Again Broad fired, and the Frog fell backward, his head in the fireplace. He came struggling to his feet, and then, with a little choking sob, fell backward, his arms outstretched. There was a sound of voices outside, a scraping of feet on the muddy path, and John Bennett came into the hut. In a moment the girl was in his arms. Broad looked round. Elk and Dick Gordon were standing in the doorway, taking in the scene. “Gentlemen,” said Joshua Broad, “I call you to witness that I killed this man in self-defence.” “Who is it?” said Dick. “It is the Frog,” said Joshua Broad calmly. “His other name is Harry Lyme. He is an English convict.” “I knew it was Harry Lyme.” It was Elk who spoke. “Is he dead?” Broad stooped and thrust his hand under the man’s waistcoat. “Yes, he is dead,” he announced simply. “I’m sorry that I have robbed you of your prey, Mr. Elk, but it was vitally necessary that he should be killed before I was, and one of us had to die this night!” Elk knelt by the still figure and began to unfasten the hideous rubber mask. “It was here that Genter was killed,” said Dick Gordon in a low voice. “Do you see the gas?” Elk looked at the glass cylinders and nodded. Then his eyes came back to the bareheaded American.