Rolleston! The man whom all accused! The man who had planned the whole affair and recruited the Hastings blackguards in order to make a dash for the wreck and steal the miniature! Rolleston, the murderer of Dolores' uncle, the murderer of William and Charles! Rolleston, Isabel's persecutor! Nevertheless Simon hesitated, profoundly troubled by the sight of his friend. Fearing an outburst of anger on the Indian's part, he seized him by the arm: "Wait a moment, Antonio! . . . First, are you really certain?" For some seconds, neither stirred. Simon was thinking that Rolleston's presence on the battle-field was the most convincing proof of his guilt. But Antonio declared: "This is not the man I met in the corridor of the hotel." "Ah!" cried Simon. "I was sure of it! In spite of all appearances, I could not admit. . . ." And he rushed up to his friend, saying: "Wounded, Ted? It's not serious, is it, old man?" The Englishman murmured: "Is that you, Simon? I didn't recognize you. My eyes are all misty." "You're not in pain?" "I should think I was in pain! The bullet must have struck against the skull and then glanced off; and here I've been since this morning, half dead. But I shall get over it." Simon questioned him anxiously: "Isabel? What has become of her?" "I don't know. . . . I don't know," the Englishman said, with an effort. "No . . . no . . . I don't know. . . ." "But where do you come from? How do you come to be here?" "I was with Lord Bakefield and Isabel." "Ah!" said Simon. "Then you were of their party?" "Yes. We spent the night on the _Queen Mary_ . . . and this morning we were set upon here, by the gang. We were retreating, when I dropped. Lord Bakefield and Isabel fell back on the _Queen Mary_, where it would have been easier for them to defend themselves. Rolleston and his men were not firing at them, however." "Rolleston?" echoed Simon. "A cousin of mine . . . Wilfred Rolleston, a damned brute, capable of anything . . . a scoundrel . . . a crook . . . oh, a madman! A real madman . . . a dipsomaniac. . . ." "And he's like you in appearance isn't he?" asked Simon, understanding the mistake that had been made. "I suppose so." "And it was to steal the miniature and the pearls that he attacked you?" "That . . . and something else that he's even more keen on." "What?" "He's in love with Isabel. He asked her to marry him at a time when he hadn't fallen so low. Then Bakefield kicked him out." "Oh, it would be too awful," stammered Simon, "if that man had succeeded in kidnapping Isabel!" He stood up. Rolleston, exhausted, said: "Save her, Simon." "But you, Ted? We can't leave you. . . ." "She comes first. He has sworn to have his revenge; he has sworn that Isabel shall be his wife." "But what are we to do? Where are we to look for her?" cried Simon, in despair. At that moment Jim came up, all out of breath. He was followed by a man whom Simon at once recognized as a groom in Lord Bakefield's service.