Now it was different.

Trent was seldom sentimental, but from the first he had had an uneasy presentiment concerning this man who lay now within his power and so near to death.
A mutual antipathy seemed to have been born between them from the first moment when they had met in the village of Bekwando.

As though it were yesterday, he remembered that leave-taking and Francis's threatening words.

Trent had always felt that the man was his enemy--certainly the power to do him incalculable harm, if not to altogether ruin him, was his now.

And he would not hesitate about it.