glar, I think."

"You haven't hurt him?" she cried, remembering old Jaggs's nocturnal
habits.

"If I have, he's got away," said Briggerland. "He must have seen me and
dropped."

Jean flew downstairs in her dressing-gown and joined her father on the
lawn.

"Did you get him?" she asked in a low voice.

"I could have sworn I shot him," said her father in the same tone, "but
the old devil must have dropped."

He heard the quick catch of her breath and turned apprehensively.

"Now, don't make a fuss about it, Jean, I couldn't help it."

"You couldn't help it!" she almost snarled. "You had him under your gun
and you let him go. Do you think he'll ever come again, you fool?"

"Now look here, I'm not going to----" began Mr. Briggerland, but she
snatched the gun from his hand, looked swiftly at the lock and ran
across the lawn toward the trees.

Somebody was hiding. She sensed that and all her nerves were alert.
Presently she saw a crouching figure and lifted the gun, but before she
could fire it was wrested from her hand.

She opened her lips to cry out for help, but a hand closed over her
mouth, and swung her round so that her back was toward her assailant,
and then in a flash his arm came round her neck, the flex of the elbow
against her throat.

"Say one of them prayers of yours," said a voice in her ear, and the arm
tightened.

She struggled furiously, but the man held her as though she were a
child.

"You're going to die," whispered the voice. "How do you like the
sensation?"

The arm tightened on her neck. She was suffocating, dying she thought,
and her heart was filled with a wild, mad longing for life and a terror
undreamt of. She could faintly hear her father's voice calling her and
then consciousness departed.

When Jean came to herself she was in Lydia Meredith's arms. She opened
her eyes and saw the pathetic face of her father looming from the
background. Her hand went up to her throat.

"Hallo, people--how did I get here?" she asked as she struggled into a
sitting position.

"I came in search of you and found you lying on the ground," quavered
Mr. Briggerland.

"Did you see the man?" she asked.

"No. What happened to you, darling?"

"Nothing," she said with that composure which she could command. "I must
have fainted. It was rather ridiculous of me, wasn't it?" she smiled.

She got unsteadily to her feet and again she felt her throat. Lydia
noticed the action.

"Did he hurt you?" sh