"All right then. You can tell her--from me--that she's been duped--as I was. She's mine--not his. He came--with that cock-and-bull story about--the other woman. But she was dead--I've found out since. She was dead--and he knew it. He faked up the tale--to suit himself. He wanted her--the damn skunk--wanted her--and cheated--cheated--to get her." He stopped, checked by a terrible gurgle in the throat. Tommy, white with passion, broke fiercely into his gasping silence. "It's a damned lie! Monck is a white man! He never did--a thing like that!" And then he too stopped in sheer horror at the devilish hatred that gleamed in the rolling, bloodshot eyes. A few dreadful seconds passed. Then Ralph Dacre gathered his ebbing life in one last great effort of speech. "She is my wife. I hold the proof. If it hadn't been for this--I'd have taken her from him--to-night. He ruined me--and he robbed me. But I--I'll ruin him now. It's my turn. He is not--her husband, and she--she'll scorn him after this--if I know her. Consoled herself precious soon. Yes, women are like that. But they don't forgive so easily. And she--is not--the forgiving sort--anyway. She'll never forgive him for tricking her--the hound! She'll never forget that the child--her child--is a bastard. And--the Regiment--won't forget either. He's down--and out." He ceased to speak. Tommy's hands were clenched. If the man had been on his feet, he would have struck him on the mouth. As it was, he could only kneel in impotence and listen to the amazing utterance that fell from the gasping lips. He felt stunned into passivity. His anger had strangely sunk away, though he regarded the man he supported with such an intensity of loathing that he marvelled at himself for continuing to endure the contact. The astounding revelation had struck him like a blow between the eyes. He felt numb, almost incapable of thought. He heard Ralston returning and wondered what he could have been doing in that interminable interval. Then, reluctant but horribly fascinated, his look went back to the upturned, dreadful face. The malignancy had gone out of it. The eyes rolled no longer, but gazed with a great fixity at something that seemed to be infinitely far away. As Tommy looked, a terrible rattling breath went through the heavy, inert form. It seemed to rend body and soul asunder. There followed a brief palpitating shudder, and the head on his arm sank sideways. A great stillness fell.... Ralston knelt and freed him from his burden. "Get up!" he said. Tommy obeyed though he felt more like collapsing. He leaned upon the table and stared while Ralston laid the big frame flat and straight upon the floor. "Is he dead?" he asked in a whisper, as Ralston stood up. "Yes," said Ralston. "It wasn't my fault, was it?" said Tommy uneasily. "I couldn't stop him talking."