His voice broke a little. "I--I guess you'll have to do the prayin', Mary. Go back to the house now and send up a little prayer for me. That's all you've got to do. I can't stay here. It's dangerous. There is the chance that the police may try to connect me with this murder. It's known that I was after him. Don't you see? Good-by, Mary, I--" "I am going with you, Tom." She grasped his arm tightly. He breathed heavily once or twice; a groan broke in his throat. "All right," he said. She felt the great muscle in his arm swell and relax again. "Do you know the way, Tom?" she asked. "That next street below takes us to the docks. I walked down there this morning. By heaven, Mary, I think you might spare yourself all this. It's too horrible to even think of. Why--why, I just can't do it with you looking on. What do you think I am?" "You said you would do it, Tom," she insisted dully. "Bob Grand is dead," he reminded her. "I said that he and I couldn't live on the same earth. It's hard to think of going straight to hell with him not more than two hours ahead of me." "Come," she said, starting off resolutely. He caught up with her, and they hurried through the alley side by side. "_I'll_ do it, all right," he said, after they had traversed nearly two blocks in silence. The words came as an epitome of the struggle that was going on in his mind. "Don't walk so fast, Tom. You are tiring me." "Tiring you?" he exclaimed. He looked at her bent head and laughed,--a short, mirthless chuckle. "You'll have to forgive me, Mary. You see I've been thinking of something else. Men walk fast when they're in a hurry." "Is it much farther?" He could scarcely hear the words. "Six or eight blocks, if I remember right." She did not speak again until they were in the middle of the second block beyond. From time to time he turned to look at her, his benumbed soul trying to get in touch with the spirit that moved her to come with him to the very brink of the grave. He was puzzled, he could not understand it in her. If there was a hope of any kind lying buried under the weight that was in his breast, he neither recognized nor encouraged it. There was an awful, growing dread that she did not intend to let him go in alone. He tried to put down the ghastly fear. His glances at her became more frequent, less furtive. The thought of this splendid, noble, beautiful creature going down into the black waters after him was almost beyond his power of comprehension, and yet he was slowly allowing it to take a hold on his senses. He came to an abrupt stop, rigid with horror. His hand fell upon her shoulder, roughly, regardless of the physical pain it was sure to inflict. "Mary, how can I be sure that you won't jump in after me? You act so queerly. I don't understand you. For Heaven's sake, go back! Don't do anything like that. I can't bear it--I can't bear the thought of you down there in the water, under the hulls, covered with--Ah!" He covered his eyes with his hand.