"I have fulfilled my pledge," he says to himself. "It had to be done to-day, for otherwise I should have been compelled to die with Golding. I have started the execution of the edict of proscription a day in advance of the schedule. "This will be the signal for the thirty-nine to do their duty. They must hear of Golding's death to-day. I shall cable the news to New York; once there it will be heralded through the country. "And they will suppose that Golding and a French financier met death accidentally. Yes, the people will accept this view; but the Committee! ah! it will know the truth. To the Thirty-nine it will mean that one of their brothers has gone to his fate with one of the Transgressors. It will dispel any symptom of hesitancy on their part. "Two men are supposed to have died in the explosion. The tunnel is destroyed. Who can say that one of the occupants of the car escaped?" He sits on the edge of the bed bending forward, and rests his head in his hands. In this attitude he remains for several minutes. "Good God, forgive me!" he cries, fervently. "I cannot die in ignorance of to-morrow! I must hear that my plan is faithfully carried out; that the Transgressors are annihilated, and the committee have kept their pledge. Is it false in me to wait? No; for I do not fear death; I would have faced it forty times could I have done so. The Transgressors would all have fallen by my hand had such a thing been possible. I shall keep my pledge, to-morrow." A few minutes later Nevins leaves the house dressed in a plain suit. He enters the cable office and writes the following message: "James Golding, accompanied by M. Tabort, French Banking Magnate, entered rear car, Paris express for London, to cross the channel. Car uncoupled in tunnel. Explosion. Both men instantly killed. Sub-marine tunnel wrecked." "Send this message to the New York Javelin," are his instructions to the operator. "Rush it, and I will give you a hundred francs." "Cable is engaged," is the reply. "Orders from London." "What news is London sending over this cable?" "None. It seems strange to keep the cable tied up, when there is such important news to be sent. But the instructions are, 'Send no messages to the United States.' I'm sending an unimportant House of Commons speech." "Your wire is free, then? I'll give you a thousand francs if you will send this one message through," Nevins urges persuasively. "I want to get the news to my paper. They will pay royally for it." The operator hesitates. A thousand francs is a tempting offer. "When will you pay?" he asks. "I will pay you now, on the very spot." As he speaks Nevins counts out the bills. It is twenty minutes of eight by the local clock in the cable office. The clock indicating New York time registers two-forty P.M. A glance at the Bank of France notes decides the question in the operator's mind. He takes the money and transmits the message.