hrough the dusk.

"What is it?" cried Havisham.

"My eyes met other eyes. There, behind that great crack between the
logs!"

The Muggletonian rushed to the door, flung it open, and vanished; the
branded man followed. The remaining occupants of the tobacco house
started to their feet, and Havisham picked from the floor a pole and
broke from it a stout cudgel. Godfrey Landless strode forward into the
broad shaft of sunshine that entered through the opened door and met the
eavesdropper face to face, as, with either arm in the rude grasp of the
fanatics, she crossed the threshold.

The conspirators, recognizing the lady of the manor, were stricken dumb.
In the three minutes of dead silence which ensued they saw their plans
defeated, their hopes ruined, their cause vanquished, their lives lost.
The graceful figure with white scorn in the beautiful face was death
come upon them. The shadow fell heavy and cold upon their souls, the
very air seemed to darken and grow chill around them The figure of the
woman in their midst gathered up the sunshine, became ethereal,
transplendent, a triumphant white and gold Spirit of Evil.

Landless was the first to speak. "Unhand her!" he said in a suppressed
voice.

The men obeyed, but the Muggletonian placed himself between his prisoner
and the door. She saw the movement and said scornfully, "You need not
fear; I shall not run away." Upon her bare, white arms, where they had
been clasped too rudely, were fast darkening marks. She glanced from
them to the scarred face of the Muggletonian. "_They_ will wear out,"
she said.

"Madam," said Landless hoarsely, "how long were you in that place?"

She flashed upon him a look that was like a blow. "Liar! be silent!" she
said, then turned to the row of faces that frowned upon her from out the
shadow. "To you others I address myself. Traitors, rebellious servants,
base plotters! I hold your lives in my hand."

"And your own?" said Trail.

"Cursed daughter of the mother of evil!" cried the Muggletonian, a
baleful light burning in his eyes. "Scarlet woman, whose vain apparel,
whose uncovered hair and bared bosom, whose light songs and laughter
have long been an offense and a stumbling-block to the righteous--thy
cup of iniquity is full, thy life is forfeit, thy hour is come!" He drew
a knife from his bosom and with an unearthly cry flourished it above his
head, then rushed upon her, to be met by Landless, who hurled himself
upon the would-be