"Within an hour. The night favors us. The women must be kept in the center as much as possible. I have given Geoffries special charge over them. They will be told at the last moment. There is no use in spoiling what little rest they have had." He drew out a pencil and began to scribble a despatch on the back of an old letter. "I advise you gentlemen to do likewise," he said. "Very often a piece of paper gets through where a man can not, and it is our bounden duty to supply the morning periodicals with as much news as possible." For some minutes there was no sound save that of the pencils scrawling the last messages of men with the seal of death already stamped upon their foreheads. All three had forgotten Travers, and yet from the moment they had begun to speak he had been awake and listening. He sat up now, leaning upon his elbow. "Nicholson!" he said faintly. Nicholson turned and came to his side. "Hullo!" he said. "Awake, are you? How are you?" Travers made no immediate answer; he took Nicholson's hand in a feverish clasp and drew him nearer. "I am in great pain," he said. "You don't need to pretend. I know. The fear of death has been on me all day. Just now I am not afraid. Is there no hope?" "You mean--for us? None." Travers nodded. "I heard you talking, but I wanted to make sure. It has all been my fault--every bit of it. It's decent of you not to make me feel it more. You are not to blame--her. You know I tempted her, I made her help me. She isn't responsible. At any rate, she made a clean breast of it--that's something to her credit. I didn't want to--I never meant to. I am not the sort that repents. But this last week you have been so decent, and Lois such a plucky little soul--she ought to hate me--and perhaps she does--but she has done her best. Nicholson, are you listening? Can you hear what I say? It's so damned hard for me to talk." "I can hear," Nicholson said kindly. "Don't worry about what can't be helped." In spite of everything, he pitied the man, and his tone showed it. Travers lifted himself higher, clinging to the other's shoulder. His voice began to come in rough, uneven jerks. "But it can be helped--it must be helped! Don't you see--I came between you and Lois purposely. From the first moment you spoke of her I knew that you loved her--and I wanted her. I never gave your message. I didn't dare. You are the sort of man a woman cares for--a woman like Lois. I couldn't risk it. But now--well, I'm done, and afterward she will be free--" Nicholson drew back stiffly. "You are talking nonsense," he said, in a colder tone. "No one wants you to die--and in any case, you know very well we have no chance of getting through this alive." Travers seized his arm. His eyes shone with a painful excitement.