"If I could find him--" "He is here." "Here! and"-- but I could not say "well!" I understood the gravity of the old man's face, the hushed footfalls, the tomblike repose of the building, in an electric flash of consciousness; I held the clue to the broken riata at last.

Altascar took my hand, and we crossed the corridor to a somber apartment.

A few tall candles were burning in sconces before the window.
In an alcove there was a deep bed with its counterpane, pillows, and sheets heavily edged with lace, in all that splendid luxury which the humblest of these strange people lavish upon this single item of their household.

I stepped beside it and saw George lying, as I had seen him once before, peacefully at rest.

But a greater sacrifice than that he had known was here, and his generous heart was stilled forever.
"He was honest and brave," said the old man, and turned away.