Travers nodded and fell back on to his rough couch. His eyes closed and he seemed to sleep, but as Beatrice knelt down by his side he roused himself and looked at her with the intensity of a man who has gathered his last strength for a last great purpose.
"I am dying," he whispered thickly; "I know it and I don't care. I am past caring. But before I die I want to atone; I want, if I can, to save Lois. I care for her in my poor way, and I would like her to be happy. Are you listening?"
"I am listening," Beatrice answered gravely. "Do you think I could close my ears when you speak of atonement?"
He clutched her hand.
"You would be glad to atone for all the mischief we have done?"
"I would give my life."
"Is the Colonel there? I can't see clearly. Colonel, I want you to hear what I have to say."
Colonel Carmichael turned.
"This is no time," he said sternly, "and it is too late for atonement.
Our account with this world is closed."
"It need not be. Colonel—in the name of those whose lives lie in your hands, I beg of you to listen to me."