He lay upon his back.

One heavy arm, his left, hung over the side of the bed, the knuckles of the hand resting on the ground; the other was thrown back, and his head was pillowed upon it.

The clothing had slipped away from his throat and massive chest, which were quite bare.
Jess stood and gazed.

"For Bessie's sake, for Bessie's sake!" she murmured; then impelled by a force that seemed to move of itself she crept slowly, slowly, to the right-hand side of the bed.
At this moment Muller woke, and his opening eyes fell full upon her face.

Whatever his dream had been, what he now saw was far more terrible, for bending over him was the _ghost of the woman he had murdered in the Vaal!_ There she was, risen from her river grave, torn, dishevelled, water yet dripping from her hands and hair.