"It is not mine. My husband's responsibilities are my responsibilities." She paused, and then went on quietly: "Thank you for explaining to me. I should never have understood myself, and Archie--no doubt dreads having to tell me that of course my money must go, too." She looked Beatrice full in the face, and they understood each other. There are some lies which a loyal woman must carry with her to the grave. Beatrice bent and kissed the cold face. "You do right," she said. "I knew you would. That is why I came to you. I have helped to bring down all this misfortune on Marut. I have helped to lower us all in the eyes of those--those who used and ought to look up to us. Now you are going to lift us out of the mire--Lois, what was that?" The two women clung to each other. Hitherto there had been no sound in the adjoining room save the regular rise and fall of two voices. Now the startled listeners heard the report of a revolver, followed by a sudden, absolute silence. Lois shook herself free from Beatrice's instinctive clutch. "It is in my husband's room!" she said hoarsely. "Stay here! I will go--" She hurried across the room and, thrusting open a curtained door, disappeared. The next instant Beatrice heard a cry which overcame every hesitation. Horror and despair called her in that sound, and the next moment she followed Lois' footsteps. She did not know what she expected to see. Afterward she believed that at the back of her mind there had been some thought of suicide. But it was not Travers' head that she saw pillowed against Lois' knee. Travers stood on the verandah, the smoking pistol still in his hand, his face livid and damp with fear. At his feet his wife was bending over the body of a man whom Beatrice recognized with a shock of pain. "What has happened?" she asked breathlessly. "What has happened?" Travers turned and stared at her. His eyes were glazed, and for the moment he did not seem to know who she was. "Captain Stafford has--been murdered!" he stammered. "He was going down the steps when a native attacked him. I--fired, but it was too late. Oh, thank God! Here is Colonel Carmichael!" True enough, it was the Colonel himself who sprang up the verandah steps. From beyond the ill-kept garden they heard the tramp of men and a low, continuous sound, like the threatening moan of the wind. On the verandah reigned a complete and awestruck silence. Colonel Carmichael bent over the unconscious man. "This is the beginning," he said somberly. "How did it happen?" "A native must have been lying in wait for him," Travers answered. "He struck at him with this." He held out a three-inch blade in a hand which shook like a child's. "I tried to save him, but I couldn't. The man escaped, though I think I hit him." The Colonel knelt down by Lois' side, and drawing out his brandy-flask tried to force a few drops between the purple lips.