There was a moment's hesitating silence. Travers' glazed eyes were fixed on the elder man's face with a hypnotizing power. The Colonel drew nearer—reluctantly knelt down.
"Be quick then!" he said.
Travers nodded. His head was thrown back against Beatrice's shoulder. With fumbling, trembling fingers he drew a plain gold ring from his pocket and thrust it into the Colonel's hand.
"Look at that!" he whispered. "Look at the inscription."
Carmichael turned to the feeble light. No one spoke or moved. They watched him and waited with a reasonless, breathless suspense.
"My God!" he whispered, "How did you come by this?"
Travers drew himself upright. The shadows of death were banished in that last moment; his voice was clear and steady as he answered.
"Listen," he said. "I will tell you—and then act before it is too late!"