THE CAPTAIN'S VISIT.—HOMEWARD BOUND.—BROTHER AND SISTER.

at last the expected draft arrived, and the party were to leave for Halifax the next day in the Cunard steamer. La Salle had invited Captain Randall to spend the evening in a private parlor of the hotel, and at eight o'clock he was ushered in, and found no other guest save his first mate, Mr. Blake, who was still first officer of the Mercedes.

The table was well spread with delicacies, and although some constraint existed, the wine did its work, and soon Blake and Randall were laughing and joking, as if no cause for ill-feeling existed between them. At Randall's request La Salle gave a summary of their adventures, concluding the recital as follows:—

"Thus passed the long days of our anxious drift, until your vessel steamed back to her old sealing-ground, and we left forever behind us our ice-built hut and the Deadman's Berg."[Pg 314]

The effect was magical. The smiles faded from the faces of the guests. Randall's lips were drawn and thin, his eyes fixed and glittering, and one hand stole stealthily to his hip. Regnar, too, was pale, but not with fear, and his hand grasped the hilt of the antique dagger.

"Let me help you to some of this, captain," said La Salle; and rising, he uncovered a small dish before him, and taking from thence a pair of Derringers, presented them at the head of his astounded guest. "Up with your hands, murderer," he said, sternly, "or you die on the instant!" At the same time Blake and Regnar seized him by the arms.

"What is the meaning of all this?" asked Waring, trembling and appalled.

"Dis no good, La Salle. No Injin hurt man in his wigwam, or strike when he give 'em food," shouted Peter, angry at what he considered a breach of hospitality; but both were unheeded.

"Why am I treated thus?" faltered the prisoner, whose trembling knees could scarcely support him.

"Captain Randall, I have here a man with whom you have an account to settle. He has been known among us as Regnar Orloff. His real name is Regnar Orloff Hubel. Where is the money and other valuables which your brother, Albert Randall, stole from two orphans, and was murdered for by you, that you in turn might become the thief?"

"Mr. Blake here knows the story, for we have told[Pg 315] him how we found the corpse of his commander, with the skull pierced with one of your murderous shells. We buried him in the berg; if you doubt it, behold the tokens."

Regnar raised his hand: on one finger glittered the golden setting of the native talisman; on the table he laid the sheathed dagger.

"Are you satisfied, George Randall?" said he.

The wretch glared around as if he would have destroyed all who surrounded him; then he seemed to realize the futility of his rage, and catching his breath with a fierce sob, he asked, hoarsely,—

"What will you have me do?"

Regnar stepped forward, and answered for himself.

"Give up the secret money-belt which you took from the person of your victim, with its contents untouched, and secure to me compensation for the sums taken by your brother. Your life I do not want, but if you hesitate I will have both."

"What security have I for your silence?" asked Randall, more boldly; for even his craven fears were unable to repress his naturally cold and grasping disposition.

"Only our oaths, and the remembrance that my half-sister has slept beneath your roof, and has borne your name, although it shall no longer be a reproach to her."

"It is hers no longer. She married last week, after losing her first beau somewhere at sea: but[Pg 316] never mind; I must take your offer and your word, I suppose. Let go of my arms. You may take my pistols from my hip, if you are afraid of me." With these words he proceeded to unfasten his vest, and from beneath it drew a water-proof bag of thin rubber, which was tightly fastened with twine, and enclosed in a money-belt of chamois-skins. "It is all there but ten thousand dollars, and that he had a right to take," said he.

"What do you mean?" asked Regnar, with a softened look and glistening eyes.

"Open and read for yourself," said Randall, moodily.

Unfastening the belt, Hubel untied the inner bag, and poured the contents upon the table. A roll of bank bills fell upon it. There were within twenty bills of the denomination of one thousand pounds each, on the Bank of England, and a folded paper, which, on being opened, proved to be a copy of the last will and testament of Paul Hubel. By its provisions a sum amounting to about ten thousand dollars was given "to my old and tried friend, Albert Perry."

"Al, put that ten thousand into this vessel last year, and I persuaded him to put thirty thousand of your money in, too. We made money last spring, and I kept trying to get him to buy all of her. He took a dislike to your sister, and said he would hold on to the money until he found you. Last summer he secured a passage on a vessel bound to the Labra[Pg 317]dor, and only that he got sick, I believe he would have seen you then.

"This last winter we had several quarrels about the money, but I never meant to injure him until the day it happened. We were having splendid luck, when he proposed that we should climb the berg, as he feared being caught between the pack and the islands. We had to ascend on the opposite side, and when we got to the top, we saw the storm brewing to windward, and started to return.

"As we came along the ice-foot, I said, 'You're making money this trip fast. Isn't that better than giving up everything to that sullen girl and a half-breed boy?' Then he seemed sad, and said, 'George, you've made a rascal of me; but, thank God, I've made up my mind to be true to my old comrade at last.'

"'What do you mean?' said I.

"'I mean,' said he, turning to me, 'that I've sold out the shares I bought with that thirty thousand, and I've got their money safe here in this belt.'

"'But you don't mean to be such a fool as to give it up—do you?' said I; for I was angry to think that, instead of the four shares I had counted on all along, we should have but one in the division of the profits.

"And then I taunted him with a fatal quarrel long ago, and he—well, he taunted me with a crime that I thought no one knew. Says he,[Pg 318]—

"'I'm not afraid of you. If the rope is ready for my neck, you could scarcely live out the time, between the sentence and the gallows, if the people of San Francisco once listened to your trial.'

"So one word brought on another, and at last he shook his gaff at me, and made one step; and my blood was on fire, and I fired the carbine. He never spoke.

"I don't believe I ever should have enjoyed the money, although at times I felt as if I could hug myself when I counted it over; and I laid out to go back to Baltimore, and go into business there. What am I to do with the share in the vessel, and his money in the bank?" he asked, suddenly.

Regnar rose, with his eyes red with weeping; but a sad smile wreathed his lips, as he asked,—

"He was your only brother, and unmarried—was he not?"

Randall answered, hoarsely,—

"It is true, God help me! it is true."

"To all that is his, then, you are sole heir. I lay no claim to interest or forfeit, and I wish that thrice the sum would restore him to life, since even at the last he was not wholly unworthy of my father's confidence and his children's love. Come," said he, turning to those present, and taking from his breast a Bible, "repeat after me the oath of silence and secrecy:—

"'We, who alone know of the circumstances attend[Pg 319]ing the decease of Captain Albert Randall, and the suspicions attaching to the part acted therein by his brother George Randall, do solemnly swear that, except under the seal of confession, or as compelled by the power of the law, we will never divulge our knowledge or suspicions until after the decease of the brother of the dead.'"

The oath was taken with due solemnity, and Randall rose to depart. Blake, filled with anger and desire of vengeance, had preceded him. La Salle coldly did as common politeness required, but Regnar saw that sickness and mental torture had overcome the strong man, whose knees trembled beneath him, as, with the curse of Cain upon him, he turned to depart, without friends, far from home, and weary of life.

"It is not right, La Salle," said the boy. "I was unjust to him although it is better for all that no eyes but our own saw him laid in the Deadman's Berg. Let us give this man human sympathy; he is weak and sick; let us see that he does not despair of the mercy and love of God."

La Salle could not but acknowledge the righteousness of this appeal, and, followed by Regnar, hastened into the hall.

"Captain," said he, "forgive us if we have failed to treat you with Christian forbearance, and believe that our hearts will retain your memory, with sympathy for your heavy burden of remorse, if not with[Pg 320] the esteem that might have existed between us. The night is dark and cold; let us help you to find a conveyance."

"I thank you," said he, feebly; &quo............