"Wilfred!" shrieked Brenda, who had recovered her breath, "is he dead?" "No," said Van Zwieten, faintly, "not dead--but dying--I have lost!" No one attempted to molest Wilfred. "I can explain myself to the commanding officer," he said. "He will approve of what I have done." By this time the other Boers had taken their departure, or there might have been trouble at this violation of the armistice. Brenda aided the men to place Harold in the ambulance, and when she had made him comfortable, returned to the side of Wilfred, who was explaining his conduct to the officer in command. Van Zwieten heard her footstep--or he must have felt her presence near him. He opened his eyes. "I am done for," he said. "I suppose it is just, but I loved you, Brenda!" Much as she hated him, she could not see him die there without making an effort to save him. She tried to staunch the wound, but it was impossible. The doctor had long since taken his departure. Seeing that all human aid was useless, she moistened the man's lips with brandy. "Thank you," he said faintly. "Will you forgive me?" "Yes, I forgive you," she whispered, "but you must ask forgiveness of God." Van Zwieten shook his head feebly. "It is too late for that. Ask Burton to forgive me. He has punished me. He can afford to be generous." Wilfred overheard the words. "I forgive you the ill you have done my family, but I do not forgive you for seeking the hospitality of my country and betraying it. Come, Brenda!" "I can tell you something about that," said Van Zwieten, in a weak voice. "Come near." Quite unsuspicious, Wilfred knelt down beside him. In an instant Van Zwieten raised his revolver and shot him through the throat. He fell back with the blood pouring from his mouth. Van Zwieten laughed. "Quits!" he said. Then he fell back dead. All was confusion. Brenda knelt beside her brother-in-law, and took his head in her lap, while the others crowded round Van Zwieten's dead body. Wilfred opened his eyes, saw Brenda's eyes bending over him, and whispered, "Bend down, quick!" She put her ear to his mouth, and heard him whisper in broken words, "In my breast-pocket--look yourself--packet--confession. I shot Malet." "You--oh!" gasped Brenda. "Why?" Wilfred Burton raised himself up with one last expiring effort. "For England!" he cried. "For England--God bless Eng----" Then he too fell back a corpse. Brenda fainted. CHAPTER XXVIII. CALM AFTER STORM