CHAPTER X.

With bursting brain, stunned with unanalyzed pain and bewilderment, as yet but half comprehending the wild words he has unwittingly heard, Armstrong strides blindly onward, trying to fly, to escape from the fever of his heart, from the sound of the wailing childish voice that has tolled the death-knell of his peace. He does not care, does not know whither he goes, for the path before him is misty and blurred in the gleaming moonlight, his eyes are dim with fury and anguish. He rolls heavily against an old seaman to…