At the door, as he opened it to go, he turned for just an instant upon Steele, who was still holding the revolver in his hand.
"Remember, Bucky," admonished Philip in a quiet voice, "it's all for the good of yourself and the service." Fear had gone from Nome's face.

It was filled now with a hatred so intense that his teeth shone like the fangs of a snarling animal.
"To hell with you," he said, "and to hell with the service; but remember, Philip Steele, remember that some day we'll meet again." "Some day," laughed Philip.

"Good-by, Bucky Nome--deserter!" The door closed and Nome was gone.
"Now, M'sieur Janette, it's our turn," cried Steele, smiling companionably upon the skull and loading his pipe.

"It's our turn." He laughed aloud, and for some time puffed out luxurious clouds of smoke in silence.
"It's the best day's work I've done in my life," he continued, with his eyes still upon the skull.

"The very best, and it would be complete, M'sieur, if I could send you down to the woman who helped to kill you." He stopped, and his eyes leaped with a sudden fire.