And right now Robert Fairchild felt himself sagging beneath the weight of the accusation.
But there was no time to lose in making his decision.

Beside him stood Harry, silent, morose.

Before him,--Fairchild closed his eyes in an attempt to shut out the sight of it.

But still it was there, the crumpled heap of tattered clothing and human remains, the awry, heavy shoes still shielding the fleshless bones of the feet.

He turned blindly, his hands groping before him.
"Harry," he called, "Harry! Get me out of here--I--can't stand it!" Wordlessly the big man came to his side.