He linked his arms around me and wrestled furiously, and his weight and height so much surpassed my own that they compensated for his weakness.  We swayed backward and forward, and the star dipped and swung over us, as though we stood upon the deck of a rolling ship.

“Calm yourself, for Heaven’s sake, monsieur!” I gasped as I gained a momentary advantage over him.  “Don’t you know me?  I am your friend.  I want to save you!”

But he was at me again, trying to lock his hands about my throat; and, even after I had controlled him and pinned his arms to his sides, he fought like a fiend, and never ceased to yell.  On either hand the rocks and tunnel gave back his howls with hideous echoes that rolled into the distance as though a hundred demons were at strife.

“You shall not take me!  I have done nothing!  It was years ago!  Let me go!  Let me go!” he screamed.

I released him for a moment, hoping that his disordered brain would calm enough for him to recognize me, and that, when he saw my motives were peaceful, he would grow quiet.

But suddenly, with a final howl, he sprang past me, Sweeping me against the wall, and leaped out on the ledge.

I held my breath.  I expected to see him stagger to his death below.  But he stood motionless in the middle of the little platform and stretched out his arms toward the raging torrent, as though in invocation.  Then he leaped across with the agility of a wild sheep and rushed on into the tunnel beyond.

I drew my breath thickly and leaned against the wall, overcome with nausea.  The physical shock of the struggle was, however, less appalling than the thought of Jacqueline.

I had no hope that the old man would ever return, or that his crazed brain remembered the way home to the cave.  He would wander on through the tunnels, either to perish in them miserably, or to emerge at last into the snow beyond and die there.

Unless Leroux found him.

I started back, keeping this time to the right side of the tunnel, until I heard the gurgling of the brook.  Then I heard Jacqueline’s footstep.

“Who is it?” she called wildly.  “M.  Hewlett!  My father!”

I caught her as she swayed toward me.  “He has gone, Jacqueline,” I said.  “I went into the tunnel to try to find the way.  He had been feigning sleep, and he crept after me.  I tried to stop him.  He was so frightened that I thought it best to let him go.  He ran on into the tunnel——­”

“We must find him,” she said.

“He will come back, Jacqueline.”

“He will never come back!” she answered.  “He must have been planning this and waiting for me to sleep.  For years he brooded over his danger, suspecting everybody, and the shock of last night unhinged his mind.  He may be hiding somewhere.  We must search for him.”

“Let us go, then, Jacqueline,” I answered.