.. you would go away.... I should be
alone.... And I have been alone all my life,... and I am tired. You
see I have nothing to regret in a death that brings me to you
again.... Do you regret life?"

"Not now," I said.

"You are kind to say so. I do believe--yes, I know that you truly
care for me.... Do you?"

"Yes."

"Then it will not be hard.... Perhaps not even very painful."

The key turning in the door startled us. Buckhurst entered, and
through the hallway I saw his dishevelled soldiers running, flinging
open doors, tearing, trampling, pillaging, wrecking everything in
their path.

"Your business will be attended to in the garden at dawn," he
observed, blinking about the room, for the bright lamp-light dazzled
him.

Speed, who had been standing by the window with Jacqueline, wheeled
sharply, took a few steps into the room, then sank into a chair,
clasping his lank hands between his knees.

The Countess did not even glance up as the sentence was pronounced;
she looked at me and laid her left hand on mine, smiling, as though
waiting for the moment to resume an interrupted conversation.

"Do you hear?" demanded Buckhurst, raising his voice.

There was no answer for a moment; then Jacqueline stepped from the
window and said: "Am I free to go?"

"You!" said Buckhurst, contemptuously; "who in hell are you?"

"I am Jacqueline."

"Really," sneered Buckhurst.

He went away, slamming and locking the door; and I heard Mornac
complaining that the signals had gone out on the semaphore and that
there was more treachery abroad.

"Get me a horse!" said Buckhurst. "There are plenty of them in the
stables. Mornac, you stay here; I'll ride over to the semaphore. Gut
this house and fire it after you've finished that business in the
garden to-morrow morning."

"Where are you going?" demanded Mornac's angry voice. "Do you expect
me to stay here while you start for Paris?"

"You have your orders," said Buckhurst, menacingly.

"Oh, have I? What are they? To stay here when the country is
roused--stay here and perhaps be shelled by that damned cruiser out
there--"

His voice was stifled as though a hand had clutched his throat; there
came the swift sound of a struggle, the banging of scabbards and
spurs, the scuffle of heavy boots.

"Are you mad?" burst out Mornac's strangled voice.

"Are you?" breathed Buckhurst. "Silence, you fool. Do you obey
orders or not?"

Their voices receded. Speed sprang to the door