The old man bent his head; and, gathering strength of mind and speech, now that he was at last speaking out openly in his defence, Stratton went on: "It was horrible--horrible! There it is, all back again before my eyes, and I feel again the stabbing, sickening pain of the bullet wound which scored my shoulder, mingled with the far worse agony of my brain. I had killed her husband--the escaped convict; and, above the feeling that all was over now, that my future was blasted, came the knowledge that, as soon as I called for help, as soon as the police investigated the matter, my life was not worth a month's purchase. For what was my defence?" Brettison satin silence, smoking calmly. "That this man had made his existence known to me, shown by his presence that his supposed death was a shadow--that, after his desperate plunge into the sea, he had managed to swim ashore and remain in hiding; the dark night's work and the belief that he had fallen shot, being his cloak; and the search for the body of a convict soon being at an end. You see all this?" Brettison bowed his head. "Think, then, of my position; put yourself in my place. What jury--what judge would believe my story that it was an accident? It seemed to me too plain. The world would say that I slew him in my disappointment and despair. Yes, I know they might have called it manslaughter, but I must have taken his place--a convict in my turn." "You thought that?" "Yes, I thought that--I think it now. I could not--I dared not speak. Everything was against me, and in my horror temptation came." Brettison looked at him sharply. "The hope was so pitiful, so faint, so weak, Brettison; but still it would linger in my maddened brain that some day in the future--after years, maybe, of expiation of the deed--I might, perhaps, approach her once again. I thought so then. The secret would be between me and my Maker, and in his good time he might say to my heart: `It is enough. You have suffered all these years. Your sin is condoned--your punishment is at an end.' I tell you I thought all that, and in my madness I dared not let the thing be known. She would know it, too, and if she did I felt that hope would be dead indeed, and that I had, too, better die." Stratton ceased speaking, and let his head fall upon his hand. "Put yourself in my place, I say. Think of yourself as being once more young and strong--the lover of one whom, in a few short hours, you would have clasped as your wife, and then try and find excuse for my mad action--for I know now that it was mad, indeed." "Yes, mad indeed," muttered Brettison.