"Yes--yes!" he stammered. "You have a chance--a sure hope. I can save you; I can--atone. That's what I want. Only you must help me. I am a dying man. I want you to bring me to the Rajah--at once. Only five minutes with him--that will be enough. Then he will let you go--he must!" Nicholson freed himself resolutely from the clinging hands. "You exaggerate your power," he said, "and, besides, what you ask is an impossibility." He turned away, but Travers caught his arm and held him with a frantic, desperate strength. "Then if you will not help me--send Miss Cary to me," he pleaded. "I must speak to her." Nicholson looked down into the dying face with a new interest. He had no suspicion of the burden with which Travers' soul was laden, and yet he was conscious now that the matter was urgent and of an importance which he could not estimate. "I will tell her," he said. "Stay quiet a minute. We have no time to lose." Travers nodded and fell back on to his rough couch. His eyes closed and he seemed to sleep, but as Beatrice knelt down by his side he roused himself and looked at her with the intensity of a man who has gathered his last strength for a last great purpose. "I am dying," he whispered thickly; "I know it and I don't care. I am past caring. But before I die I want to atone; I want, if I can, to save Lois. I care for her in my poor way, and I would like her to be happy. Are you listening?" "I am listening," Beatrice answered gravely. "Do you think I could close my ears when you speak of atonement?" He clutched her hand. "You would be glad to atone for all the mischief we have done?" "I would give my life." "Is the Colonel there? I can't see clearly. Colonel, I want you to hear what I have to say." Colonel Carmichael turned. "This is no time," he said sternly, "and it is too late for atonement. Our account with this world is closed." "It need not be. Colonel--in the name of those whose lives lie in your hands, I beg of you to listen to me." There was a moment's hesitating silence. Travers' glazed eyes were fixed on the elder man's face with a hypnotizing power. The Colonel drew nearer--reluctantly knelt down. "Be quick then!" he said. Travers nodded. His head was thrown back against Beatrice's shoulder. With fumbling, trembling fingers he drew a plain gold ring from his pocket and thrust it into the Colonel's hand. "Look at that!" he whispered. "Look at the inscription." Carmichael turned to the feeble light. No one spoke or moved. They watched him and waited with a reasonless, breathless suspense. "My God!" he whispered, "How did you come by this?" Travers drew himself upright. The shadows of death were banished in that last moment; his voice was clear and steady as he answered. "Listen," he said. "I will tell you--and then act before it is too late!" CHAPTER XI IN THE HOUR OF NEED