g sternly, "is a lie."

He laid his hand suddenly upon Hope's shoulder.

"Surely you can tell me the truth at least!" he said.

Something in his tone pierced the wild panic at her heart. She looked up
at him again, meeting the mastery of his eyes.

"He is in his room," she said. "Mr. Hyde didn't know."

Hyde laughed, and at the sound the hand on Hope's shoulder closed like a
vice, till she bit her lip with the effort to endure the pain. Baring
saw it, and instantly set her free.

"Go to your brother," he said, "and ask him to come and speak to me!"

The authority in his voice was not to be gainsaid. She threw an
imploring look at Hyde, and went. She fled like a wild creature along
the veranda to her brother's room, and tapped feverishly, frantically at
the window. Then she paused listening intently for a reply. But she
could hear nothing save the loud beating of her heart. It drummed in her
ears like the hoofs of a galloping horse. Desperately she knocked again.

"Let me in!" she gasped. "Let me in!"

There came a blundering movement, and the door opened.

"Hullo!" said Ronnie, in a voice of sleepy irritation. "What's up?"

She stumbled into the dark room, breathless and sobbing.

"Oh, Ronnie!" she cried. "Oh, Ronnie; you must help me now!"

He fastened the door behind her, and as she sank down half-fainting in a
chair, she heard him groping for matches on the dressing-table.

He struck one, and lighted a lamp. She saw that his hand was very shaky,
but that he managed to control it. His face was pale, and there were
deep shadows under his heavy eyes, but he was himself again, and a
thrill of thankfulness ran through her. There was still a chance, still
a chance!

XII

THE PENALTY

Five minutes later, or it might have been less, the brother and sister
stepped out on to the veranda to go to the drawing-room. They had to
turn a corner of the bungalow to reach it, and the moment they did so
Hope stopped dead. A man's voice, shouting curses, came from the open
window; and, with it, the sound of struggling and the sound of
blows--blows delivered with the precision and regularity of a
machine--frightful, swinging blows that sounded like revolver shots.

"What is it?" gasped Hope in terror. "What is it?" But she knew very
well what it was; and Ronnie knew, too.

"You stay here," he said. "I'll go and stop it."

"No, no!" she gasped back. "I am coming with you; I must." She slipped
her cold hand i