He saw their startled eyes turn past him to us, and swung sharply round. For an instant he stood poised like a serpent about to strike, then I saw his eyes fix in a frightful stare, his face turned livid, and with a strangled cry, he fell back and down. Together we lifted him to the low window-seat, pursuers and pursued alike, loosened his collar, chafed his hands, bathed his temples, did everything we could think of doing; but he lay there staring at the ceiling with clenched teeth. At last Royce bent and laid his ear against his breast. Then he arose and turned gently to the women. "It is no use," he said. "He is dead." I looked to see them wince under the blow; but they did not. The younger woman went slowly to the window and stood there sobbing quietly; the other's face lit up with a positive blaze of joy. "So," she exclaimed, in that low, vibrant voice I so well remembered, "so he is dead! That treacherous, cruel heart has burst at last!" Royce gazed at her a moment in astonishment. She looked not at him, but at the dead man on the window-seat, her hands clasping and unclasping. "Madame Alix," he said, at last, "you know our errand--we must carry it out." She bowed her head. "I know it, monsieur," she answered. "But for him, there would have been no such errand. As it is, I will help you all I can. Cecile," she called to the woman at the window, "go and bring your sister to these gentlemen." The younger woman dried her eyes and left the room. We waited in tense silence, our eyes on the door. We heard the sound of footsteps on the stair; a moment, and she was on the threshold. She came in slowly, listlessly--it gave me a shock to see the pallor of her face. Then she glanced up and saw Royce standing there; she drew in her breath with a quick gasp, a great wave of color swept over her cheeks and brow, a great light sprang into her eyes. "Oh, John!" she cried, and swayed toward him. He had her in his arms, against his heart, and the glad tears sprang to my eyes as I looked at them. I glanced at the elder woman, and saw that her eyes were shining and her lips quivering. "And I have come to take you away, my love," he was saying. "Oh, yes; take me away," she sobbed, "before the other comes." She stopped, her eyes on the window-seat, where "the other" lay, and the color died out of her cheeks again. "He, at least, has paid the penalty," said Royce. "He can trouble you no more, my love." She was sobbing helplessly upon his shoulder, but as the moments passed she grew more calm, and at last stood upright from him. The younger woman had come back into the room, and was watching her curiously, with no trace of emotion. "Come, let us go," said the girl. "We must take the first boat home." But Royce held back. "There has been a crime committed," he said slowly. "We must see that it is punished." "A crime? Oh, yes; but I forgive them, dear." "The crime against yourself you may forgive; but there was another crime--murder----"