“Come quickly now—­all is over!” Thorpe whispered.

“And the dark man—?” gasped the clerk, as he moved swiftly by the other’s side.

“In this present life is the Manager of the company.”

“And the victim?”

“Was yourself!”

“And the friend he—­I refused to betray?”

“I was that friend,” answered Thorpe, his voice with every moment sounding more and more like the cry of the wind.  “You gave your life in agony to save mine.”

“And again, in this life, we have all three been together?”

“Yes.  Such forces are not soon or easily exhausted, and justice is not satisfied till all have reaped what they sowed.”

Jones had an odd feeling that he was slipping away into some other state of consciousness.  Thorpe began to seem unreal.  Presently he would be unable to ask more questions.  He felt utterly sick and faint with it all, and his strength was ebbing.

“Oh, quick!” he cried, “now tell me more.  Why did I see this?  What must I do?”

The wind swept across the field on their right and entered the wood beyond with a great roar, and the air round him seemed filled with voices and the rushing of hurried movement.

“To the ends of justice,” answered the other, as though speaking out of the centre of the wind and from a distance, “which sometimes is entrusted to the hands of those who suffered and were strong.  One wrong cannot be put right by another wrong, but your life has been so worthy that the opportunity is given to—­”

The voice grew fainter and fainter, already it was far overhead with the rushing wind.

“You may punish or—­” Here Jones lost sight of Thorpe’s figure altogether, for he seemed to have vanished and melted away into the wood behind him.  His voice sounded far across the trees, very weak, and ever rising.

“Or if you can rise to the level of a great forgiveness—­”

The voice became inaudible....  The wind came crying out of the wood again.

* * * * *

Jones shivered and stared about him.  He shook himself violently and rubbed his eyes.  The room was dark, the fire was out; he felt cold and stiff.  He got up out of his armchair, still trembling, and lit the gas.  Outside the wind was howling, and when he looked at his watch he saw that it was very late and he must go to bed.

He had not even changed his office coat; he must have fallen asleep in the chair as soon as he came in, and he had slept for several hours.  Certainly he had eaten no dinner, for he felt ravenous.

III

Next day, and for several weeks thereafter, the business of the office went on as usual, and Jones did his work well and behaved outwardly with perfect propriety.  No more visions troubled him, and his relations with the Manager became, if anything, somewhat smoother and easier.