"  It  is  M'Kissock!  "  he  cried  finally,  and  at  the  words
unconsciously  uttered,  the  other's  eyelids  began  to  flicker
in  the  candle-light  until  at  length  they  opened  and  remained
open  at  their  widest.  And  for  a  long  time  they  two  stayed
thus,  regarding  each  other  as  if  bereft  of  power  of  move-
ment or  speech.
Then  Parish  M'Kissock's  slack  jaws  took  to  twitching
convulsively.  A  low  moaning  broke  from  his  mouth.  A
film  came  over  his  dreadfully  staring  eyes.  He  would  have
fallen  unconscious  again  had  not  the  engineer  snatched  up
the  glass  at  one  side  and  poured  down  his  throat  a  few  drops
of  the  spirit  it  held.  His  teeth  closed  with  a  snap  and  he
groaned  again,  heartrendingly;  but,  in  a  little,  he  had  so
far  benefited  by  that  hurtful  remedy  as  to  recover  the  use
of  his  voice.  His  lips  moved  and  his  rescuer  leaned  forward
to  catch  the  hoarse,  agonised  whisper  that  came  from  them.
"  You  were  always  —  a  cruel  devil,  Lord  St.  Just,"
gasped  Farish  M'Kissock,  "  even  when  you  were  alive.
It  should  be  my  right  —  to  torment  you  now,  and  not  —
you  me!  "

The  engineer  drew  back  a  little.  He  knew  then  that  he
had  not  been  mistaken.
