The memory of that sweet-faced woman who had bent above him when the fever began its mastery, appealed to him now with the opportunity of service.

He might be able to clear this, bring to her the truth, save her from despair, and hand over to justice the murderers of her husband.

It was up to him alone to accomplish this--no one else knew what he knew, suspected what he suspected.

And there was but one way--through escape.

To remain there in weak surrender to fate could have but one ending, and that swift and sudden.