big white house. It was all in
darkness, which at least was reassuring. If the Spaniards had reached
it, there would be lights. He knocked, but had to knock again and yet
again before he was answered. Then it was by a voice from a window
above.

"Who is there?" The voice was Miss Bishop's, a little tremulous, but
unmistakably her own.

Mr. Blood almost fainted in relief. He had been imagining the
unimaginable. He had pictured her down in that hell out of which he had
just come. He had conceived that she might have followed her uncle into
Bridgetown, or committed some other imprudence, and he turned cold from
head to foot at the mere thought of what might have happened to her.

"It is I--Peter Blood," he gasped.

"What do you want?"

It is doubtful whether she would have come down to open. For at such
a time as this it was no more than likely that the wretched plantation
slaves might be in revolt and prove as great a danger as the Spaniards.
But at the sound of her voice, the girl Mr. Blood had rescued peered up
through the gloom.

"Arabella!" she called. "It is I, Mary Traill."

"Mary!" The voice ceased above on that exclamation, the head was
withdrawn. After a brief pause the door gaped wide. Beyond it in
the wide hall stood Miss Arabella, a slim, virginal figure in white,
mysteriously revealed in the gleam of a single candle which she carried.

Mr. Blood strode in followed by his distraught companion, who, falling
upon Arabella's slender bosom, surrendered herself to a passion of
tears. But he wasted no time.

"Whom have you here with you? What servants?" he demanded sharply.

The only male was James, an old negro groom.

"The very man," said Blood. "Bid him get out horses. Then away with you
to Speightstown, or even farther north, where you will be safe. Here you
are in danger--in dreadful danger."

"But I thought the fighting was over..." she was beginning, pale and
startled.

"So it is. But the deviltry's only beginning. Miss Traill will tell you
as you go. In God's name, madam, take my word for it, and do as I bid
you."

"He... he saved me," sobbed Miss Traill.

"Saved you?" Miss Bishop was aghast. "Saved you from what, Mary?"

"Let that wait," snapped Mr. Blood almost angrily. "You've all the night
for chattering when you're out of this, and away beyond their reach.
Will you please call James, and do as I say--and at once!"

"You are very peremptory...."

"Oh, my God! I am peremptory! Spea