"Just escaped the roof falling in," said one.
"Got the strength of two, for a drunk man weighs twice as heavy as a
sober one!" exclaimed another admiringly.
"Marchand's game is up on the Sagalac," declared a third decisively.
The excitement was so great, however, that only a very few of them knew
what they were saying, and fewer still knew that Dennis Doane had risked
his life to save the man he had been stalking for weeks past. Marchand
had been lying on his face in the smoke-filled room when Dennis broke
into it, and he had been carried down the stairs without his face being
seen at all.
To Dennis it was as though he had been made a fool of by Fate or
Providence, or whatever controlled the destinies of men; as though the
dangerous episode had been arranged to trap him into this situation.
Ingolby drew near and laid a hand upon Dennis's arm. Fleda's hand was on
the other arm.
"You can't kill a man and save him too," said Ingolby quietly, and
holding the abashed blue eyes of Dennis. "There were two ways to punish
him; taking away his life at great cost, or giving it him at great cost.
If you'd taken away his life, the cost would probably have been your own
life; in giving him his life you only risked your own; you had a chance
to save it.
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