on was rapidly growing more and more desperate; the time was near
at hand when the final effort would have to be exerted. He slipped the
revolver from his pocket; somehow he was unable to keep his teeth from
chattering; but it was through excitement, not fear.

Suddenly the boat turned to the right and shot toward the unseen bank.
They were perhaps half a mile above the city wall. Truxton's mind was
working like a trip-hammer. He was recalling a certain nomad settlement
north of the city, the quarters of fishermen, poachers and
horse-traders: a squalid, unclean community that lay under the walls
between the northern gates and the river. These people, he was not slow
to surmise, were undoubtedly hand in glove with Marlanx, if not so
surely connected with the misguided Committee of Ten. This being the eve
of the great uprising, it was not unlikely that a secret host lay here
awake and ready for the foul observance of the coming holiday; here, at
least, chafed an eager, vicious, law-hating community of mendicants and
outcasts.

He had little time to speculate on the attitude of the denizens of this
unwholesome place. The prow of the boat grated on the pebbly bank, and
Peter Brutus leaped over the edge into the shallow water.

"Come on, Julius--hand her over to me!" he cried, making his way to the
stern.

As he leaned over the side to seize the girl in his arms, Truxton King
brought the butt of the heavy revolver down upon his skull. Brutus
dropped across the gunwale with a groan, dead to all that was to happen
in the next half hour or more.

King was anxious to avoid the hullaballoo that shooting was sure to
create on shore. Action had been forced upon him rather precipitously,
but he was ready. Leaning forward, he had the two amazed oarsmen covered
with the weapon.

"Hands up! Quick!" he cried. Two pairs of hands went up, together with
strange oaths. Truxton's eyes had grown used to the darkness; he could
see the men quite plainly. "What are you doing?" he demanded of Loraine,
who, behind him, was fumbling in the garments of the unconscious Brutus.

"Getting his revolver," she replied, with a quaver in her voice.

"Good!" he said exultantly. "Let's think a minute," he went on. "We
don't dare turn these fellows loose, even if we disarm them. They'll
have a crowd after us in two minutes." Still, keeping the men covered,
he cudgelled his brain for the means of disposing of them. "I have it.
We must disarm them, tie