The room was growing dusky, and the stranger's glance appeared keener, more insistent, as his body melted into the shadow. His shaggy head and black beard all but disappeared; only the faint outlines of his forehead remained, and yet, as his physical self faded into the gloom, his personality, his psychic self, loomed larger. His will enveloped the hermit, drawing upon him with irresistible power. It was as if he were wringing him dry of a confession as the priest closes in upon the culprit. "I had my happy days--my days of care-free youth," the unquiet man was saying. "But my time of innocence was short. Evil companions came early and reckless deeds followed.... I knew I was losing something, I knew I was being drawn downward, but I could not escape. Day and night I called for help, and then--_she_ came--" "Who came?" "The one who made me forget all the others, the one who made me ashamed." "And then?" "And then for a time I was happy in the hope that I might win her and so redeem my life." "And she?" "She pitied me--at first--and loved me--at least I thought so." As his excitement increased his words came slower, burdened with passion. He spoke like a prisoner addressing a judge, his voice but a husky whisper. "I told her I was unworthy of her--that was when I believed her to be an angel. I promised to begin a new life for her sake. Then she promised me--helped me--and all the while she was false to me--false as a hell-cat!" "How?" queried the almost invisible man, and his voice was charged with stern demand. "All the time she was promised to another man--and that man my enemy." Here his frenzy flared forth in a torrent of words. "Then--then I went mad. My brain was scarred and numb. I lost all sense of pity--all fear of law--all respect for woman. I only knew my wrongs--my despair--my hate. I watched, I waited, I found them together--" "And then? What did you do then?" demanded the stranger, rising from his seat with sudden energy, his voice deep, insistent, masterful. "Tell me what you did?" The miner's wild voice died to a hesitant whisper. "I--I fled." "But before that--before you fled?" "What is it to you?" asked the hermit, gazing with scared eyes at the man who towered above him like the demon of retribution. "Who are you?" "I am the avenger!" answered the other. "The man you hated was my brother. The woman you killed was his wife." The fugitive fell upon his knees with a cry like that of one being strangled. Out of the darkness a red flame darted, and the crouching man fell to the floor, a crumpled, bloody heap. For a long time the executioner stood above the body, waiting, listening from the shadow to the faint receding breath-strokes of his victim. When all was still he restored his weapon to its sheath and stepped over the threshold into the keen and pleasant night. As he closed the door behind him the stranger raised his eyes to Solidor, whose sovereign, cloud-like crest swayed among the stars.