"The Indian, Long-Hair, whom I sent upon Lieutenant Beverley's
trail, reported to me this afternoon that his pursuit had been
quite successful. He caught his game."
Alice's voice came to her now. She drew in a quivering breath of
relief.
"Then he is here--he is--you have him a prisoner again?"
"A part of him, Miss Roussillon. Enough to be quite sure that
there is one traitor who will trouble his king no more. Mr. Long-
Hair brought in the Lieutenant's scalp."
Alice received this horrible statement in silence; but her face
blanched and she stood as if frozen by the shock. The shifty moon-
glimmer and the yellow glow of the lamp showed Hamilton to what an
extent his devilish cruelty hurt her, and somehow it chilled him
as if by reflection; but he could not forego another thrust.
"He deserved hanging, and would have got it had he been brought to
me alive. So after all, you should be satisfied. He escaped my
vengeance and Long-Hair got his pay. You see I am the chief
sufferer."
These words, however, fell without effect upon the girl's ears, in
which was booming the awful, storm-like roar of her excitement.
She did not see her persecutor standing there; her vision,
unhindered by walls and distance, went straight away to a place in
the wilderness, where all mangled and disfigured Beverley lay
dead.
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