The end could not be long deferred; yet the man fought on, as living things will fight for life--life so common, life so cheap, yet so desperately clung to. He fought and shrieked until the ever-tightening constriction stopped the inflation of his lungs; till the roaring in his ears swelled to thunder; till the driven blood burst from his ears and nostrils. Then came a flash and a louder roar; the gleaming eyes that confronted him grew suddenly dull; the great coils relaxed and fell away; dimly he saw Dorothy’s face; her gown white in the moonlight; the smoking pistol in her hand. Then girl and snake and moon and sky blended in one common blur of blackness. For the first time in his life Frank Howard fainted. When he came to, he was lying on the deck, with his head in Dorothy’s lap. On his face her tears dropped slowly, one by one. As, dazed, he lay still for an instant, he heard her pray: “Oh, God! God!” she sobbed, “give him back to me! Give my darling back to me.” A mad throb of exultation crossed through Howard’s veins to be followed by a quicker revulsion. “Not yet, oh, God!” he implored in his turn silently. “Not until----” He opened his eyes and looked up into hers. The moonlight was white and bright as day, and for one moment each looked deep into the other’s heart. “Thank God! Oh, thank God!” sobbed the girl. “You’re alive! Alive! Alive!” Howard tried to smile. “Thanks to you,” he answered. “It was the bravest act I have ever known. I don’t see how----” But Dorothy threw up her hand. “Please! Please, don’t speak of it!” she implored. “I can’t bear it. I can’t bear it.” Howard struggled to his feet. He longed to take her in his arms and comfort her, but honor held him back. Perhaps she loved him--yes, but she was overwrought. He could not take advantage of her emotion--nor of her position. Later, when she was restored to her friends--the light died from his eyes as he remembered his own doom. “Thank you,” he said softly. “It is all that I can say. Thank you.” Dorothy’s bosom heaved. “No,” she said, “it is not all. You said more while you were unconscious. You were about to say more an instant ago. Then you stopped. Why?” “I--I----” “I could read your heart in your eyes. Say what you had in it. Say it! Say it!” “I am not worthy. I am----” “Hush! Not that! You are not guilty. You could not be guilty. You! so brave, so tender, so sacrificing! You! to murder a woman. It is not true. Since the day I first met you I have never believed it. Since you told me the story, I have wanted no other testimony. Now, will you say what was in your heart a moment ago?” “I cannot. I----” “Listen. To-night I said that we were mere acquaintances. I said I did not love you. I lied! I do love you. With all my heart and soul I love you.” “Dorothy!” “Frank! Husband!” XV