to be a criminal. Well, well!" I nodded my head mysteriously. "It is a pity—but I like you, boy—I don't want you to die just yet. There may be a way out, in spite of all. Now—trust me and obey me."

A curious pang altogether strange to my experience shot through my breast, as I watched the glow of hope that flashed into the poor fellow's eyes, and the colour flame into his ashen cheeks.

"Dagmar!" he gasped, "Dagmar!" and he stretched out his shaking hands as a child might do.

"Repeat it word for word!" I commanded. "Come, calm yourself—that is better; now!"

He could hardly articulate at first, but he grew calmer as he proceeded.

"Whosoever shall win!" he began, "shall win the proceeds of one completed month's joint contributions, shall—during—the succeeding month, apply the gold so gifted him by hazard of the dice unto the—the—purpose that—that is—is provided for by rule three. Should he, on the contrary, apply it—to—to—Ah! you know, Dagmar, you know."

"Ay!" said I, "I know what follows—it spells suicide in brief. But, my dear George—there is hope for you in rule three."

"Impossible!" he gasped. "Impossible!"

I smiled. "There is no such word in my vocabulary," I answered firmly. "Now, George, give me all your mind, every atom of your attention, and I shall show you a path from your dilemma—an honourable expedient. Repeat rule three!"

He knitted his brows together, and a curiously strained introspective look came into his eyes.

"You are trying me!" he muttered. "Dagmar—if you dared——"

"Fool!" I interrupted hoarsely—for my suspense was painfully intense. "What object could I serve? Do as I bid you! Do as I bid you!" I pressed his hands more tightly, and with all my strength I strove to subordinate his will to mine. I succeeded.

"I'll trust you!" he muttered in a tense trembling whisper. "I'll trust you, Dagmar. God forgive you if you play me false!"