Ernest staggered a moment from the reaction, and then ran with the others towards his cousin—nay, towards what had been his cousin. He was lying on his back upon the sand, his wide-opened eyes staring up at the blue sky, as though to trace the flight of the spirit, his arms extended. The heavy revolver-ball had struck near the crystal pin, and then passed upwards through the throat and out at the base of the head, shattering the spinal column. “He is dead,” said Captain Justice, solemnly. Ernest wrung his hands. “I have killed him,” he said—“I have killed my own cousin!” “Young man,” said Mr. Alston, “do not stand there wringing your hands, but thank Providence for your own escape. He was very near killing you, let me tell you. Is your head cut?” Instinctively Ernest took off his hat, and as he did so some fragments of his curly hair fell to the ground. There was a neat hole through the felt, and a neat groove along his thick hair. His cousin had meant to kill him; and he was a good shot—so good that he thought that he could put a ball through Ernest’s head. But he forgot that a heavy American revolver, with forty grains of powder behind the ball, is apt to throw a trifle high. And then they all stood silent and looked at the body; and the lark, that had been frightened by the noise, began to sing again. “This will not do,” said Mr. Alston presently. “We had better move the body in there,” and he pointed to the deserted hut. “Captain Justice, what do you intend to do?” “Give myself up to the authorities, I suppose,” was the gallant Captain’s scared answer. “Very well. I don’t advise you to do that, but if you are determined to, there is no need for you to be in a hurry about it. You must give us time to get clear first.” They lifted the corpse, reverently bore it into the deserted hut, and laid it on the floor. Ernest remained standing looking at the red stain where it had been. Presently they came out again, and Mr. Alston kicked some sand over the stain and hid it. “Now,” he said, “we had better make an addition to those documents, to say how this came about.” They all went back to the hut, and the addition was made, standing there by the body. When it came to Ernest’s turn to sign, he almost wished that his signature was the one missing from the foot of that ghastly post-scriptum. Mr. Alston guessed his thoughts. “The fortune of war,” he said, coolly. “Now, Captain Justice, we are going to catch the early boat, and we hope that you will not give yourself up before midday, if you can help it. The inquiry into the affair will not then be held before to-morrow; and by eleven to-morrow morning I hope to have seen the last of England for some years to come.” The Captain was a good fellow at bottom, and had no wish to see others dragged into trouble.