His great eyebrows were bunched over his suspicious, questioning eyes, and he glared like a beast at bay from one to the other of the faces round him. There was a trick--a vile trick. They had suborned his own daughter. It was damnable. He would expose them, every one. No, he had no questions to ask. He could see through it all. She had been won over. He could not have believed it of her, and yet it must be so. She was doing it for Malone’s sake. A woman would do anything for a man she loved. Yes, it was damnable. Far from being softened he was more vindictive than ever. His furious face, his broken words, expressed his convictions. Again the girl’s arm shot out, pointing in front of her. “Another message!” “To whom?” “To him. The man who wanted to hurt my Medi. He must not hurt my Medi. A man here--two men--wish to give him a message.” “Yes, Victor, let us have it.” “First man’s name is....” The girl’s head slanted and her ear was upturned, as if listening. “Yes, yes, I have it! It is Al--Al--Aldridge.” “Does that mean anything to you?” Challenger staggered. A look of absolute wonder had come upon his face. “Who is the second man?” he asked. “Ware. Yes, that is it. Ware.” Challenger sat down suddenly. He passed his hand over his brow. He was deadly pale. His face was clammy with sweat. “Do you know them?” “I knew two men of those names.” “They have messages for you,” said the girl. Challenger seemed to brace himself for a blow. “Well, what is it?” “Too private. Not speak, all these people here.” “We shall wait outside,” said Mailey. “Come, friends, let the Professor have his message.” They moved towards the door leaving the man seated in front of his daughter. An unwonted nervousness seemed suddenly to seize him. “Malone, stay with me!” The door closed and the three were left together. “What is the message?” “It is about a powder.” “Yes, yes.” “A grey powder?” “Yes.” “The message that men want to say is: ‘You did not kill us.’” “Ask them then--ask them--how did they die?” His voice was broken and his great frame was quivering with his emotion. “They die disease.” “What disease?” “New--new.... What that?... Pneumonia.” Challenger sank back in his chair with an immense sigh of relief. “My God!” he cried, wiping his brow. Then: “Call in the others, Malone.” They had waited on the landing and now streamed into the room. Challenger had risen to meet them. His first words were to Tom Linden. He spoke like a shaken man whose pride for the instant was broken. “As to you, sir, I do not presume to judge you. A thing has occurred to me which is so strange, and also so certain, since my own trained senses have attested it, that I am not prepared to deny any explanation which has been offered of your previous conduct. I beg to withdraw any injurious expressions I may have used.” Tom Linden was a true Christian in his character. His forgiveness was instant and sincere.