In the horror of the moment Despard saw that it was Langhetti. For an instant his brain reeled. The next moment he had reached the spot. Another horseman was standing close by, without pretending even to interfere. Despard did not see him; he saw nothing but Langhetti. He flung himself from his horse, and drew a revolver from his pocket. A loud report rang through the air, and in an instant the huge blood-hound gave a leap upward, with a piercing yell, and fell dead in the road. Despard flung himself on his knees beside Langhetti. He saw his hands torn and bleeding, and blood covering his face and breast. A low groan was all that escaped from the sufferer. “Leave me,” he gasped. “Save Bice.” In his grief for Langhetti, thus lying before him in such agony, Despard forgot all else. He seized his handkerchief and tried to stanch the blood. “Leave me!” gasped Langhetti again. “Bice will be lost.” His head, which Despard had supported for a moment, sank back, and life seemed to leave him. Despard started up. Now for the first time he recollected the stranger; and in an instant understood who he was, and why this had been done. Suddenly, as he started up, he felt his pistol snatched from his hand by a strong grasp. He turned. It was the horseman--it was Clark--who had stealthily dismounted, and, in his desperate purpose, had tried to make sure of Despard. But Despard, quick as thought, leaped upon him, and caught his hand. In the struggle the pistol fell to the ground. Despard caught Clark in his arms, and then the contest began. Clark was of medium size, thick-set, muscular, robust, and desperate. Despard was tall, but his frame was well knit, his muscles and sinews were like iron, and he was inspired by a higher Spirit and a deeper passion. In the first shock of that fierce embrace not a word was spoken. For some time the struggle was maintained without result. Clark had caught Despard at a disadvantage, and this for a time prevented the latter from putting forth his strength effectually. At last he wound one arm around Clark’s neck in a strangling grasp, and forced his other arm under that of Clark. Then with one tremendous, one resistless impulse, he put forth all his strength. His antagonist gave way before it. He reeled. Despard disengaged one arm and dealt him a tremendous blow on the temple. At the same instant he twined his legs about those of the other. At the stroke Clark, who had already staggered, gave way utterly and fell heavily backward, with Despard upon him. The next instant Despard had seized his throat and held him down so that he could not move. The wretch gasped and groaned. He struggled to escape from that iron hold in vain. The hand which had seized him was not to be shaken off. Despard had fixed his grasp there, and there in the throat of the fainting, suffocating wretch he held it. The struggles grew fainter, the arms relaxed, the face blackened, the limbs stiffened. At last all efforts ceased.