"I revel in it!" he answered. "By the Lord! Till you've tried absolutely unrestrained wickedness, till you've thrown off every sort of control, till you're one with the devil and proud of it, you don't know what enjoyment is!" His eyes glowed; he smote his fist ecstatically on the stones. "It's great!" he cried. "Great!" A gray figure came suddenly into view behind him. Miller's face showed white against the shadow of the dusk which was heralding its coming by the deepening azure of the sea and sky. And his glance seemed to hold a significance which the prisoners were meant to read, but for which they had no clue. Landon heard him and wheeled. He surveyed him slowly and then he laughed. "I'm beyond you now, teacher!" he derided. "I used to admire you--the callousness, the relentlessness--which you could put into a job! But I'm way up above you. Decency had to be part of your stock-in-trade." He laughed again, his harsh, cackling merriment, and there was a note in it which struck a new chord of fear in Claire's heart. It was inhuman, unintelligent, this laughter. It fell poignantly, horribly on the ear. "To-morrow--_mañana_!" chuckled Landon. "I'm coming back with all my friends. We'll give hours of daylight to the job and, by God! we'll make a good one! Think it over; give it your attention through the night! My terms, every word of them or--well, try and guess the persuasions I'll use. Meditate on them; paint them up in your imaginations and then you'll fall short! And as for restraints, remember that in my particular case there isn't such a thing, not one!" He stood staring down at them through a moment of leering self-satisfaction, and then slowly, reluctantly, turned away. He took Miller's arm and drew him insistently down the path. His evil laughter came back to them shrill upon the evening breeze. Inside their prison the two turned and confronted each other. Then Aylmer spoke. "He has defied God, and the judgment of God has fallen on him. He is insane--that is evident! Insane with malice, with his surrender to the devil and all his works." Her lips were parched. She whispered. "And to-morrow?" she questioned, thickly. "To-morrow--we shall have to surrender, too. To him?" He clenched his fists. "No!" he said. "No! Not while Fate has given us to-night--to-night!" CHAPTER XXIII PADRE SIGISMONDI