How far he had followed out of the gallery, or with what obstacles he had
since contended, he knew not. He became roused to the knowledge that
Obenreizer had set upon him, and that they were struggling desperately in
the snow. He became roused to the remembrance of what his assailant
carried in a girdle. He felt for it, drew it, struck at him, struggled
again, struck at him again, cast him off, and stood face to face with
him.
"I promised to guide you to your journey's end," said Obenreizer, "and I
have kept my promise. The journey of your life ends here. Nothing can
prolong it. You are sleeping as you stand."
"You are a villain. What have you done to me?"
"You are a fool. I have drugged you. You are doubly a fool, for I
drugged you once before upon the journey, to try you. You are trebly a
fool, for I am the thief and forger, and in a few moments I shall take
those proofs against the thief and forger from your insensible body."
The entrapped man tried to throw off the lethargy, but its fatal hold
upon him was so sure that, even while he heard those words, he stupidly
wondered which of them had been wounded, and whose blood it was that he
saw sprinkled on the snow.
"What have I done to you," he asked, heavily and thickly, "that you
should be--so base--a murderer?"
"Done to me? You would have destroyed me, but that you have come to your
journey's end. Your cursed activity interposed between me, and the time
I had counted on in which I might have replaced the money.
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