remark proved
effective, moreover.

With a snarl of rage Cervera darted toward him, with eyes for him alone,
never for the floor.

"You dog!" she cried, through her white teeth.

"Do you mock me again?"

"Oh! no, of course not," sneered Nick.

"You lie! You do! You think some one will come--that you will then
escape me," screamed Cervera, quivering through and through with
venomous passion.

Nick watched her as a cat watches a mouse.

Her face was ghastly and distorted, her breast heaving, her every nerve
quivering, and her eyes were like balls of fire under their knitted
brows.

Still clutching the poniard, her jeweled fingers worked convulsively
around its haft, like those of one who fain would strike a death blow,
yet whose hand was briefly held by consuming horror.

Suddenly she darted nearer, with a vicious snarl.

"You think you'll escape me," she screamed, with bitter ferocity. "It
shows in your eyes. I'll make sure that you don't. Let come who may, you
shall be found--dead! Dead!--do you hear?"

"Oh! yes, I hear."

"Yet you do not fear? We'll see--we'll see!"

She darted closer to him, with the weapon raised, above her head, and
her knee touched Nick's knee. He swung quickly around toward her, and
scraped his feet over the floor below her skirts.

Then came a quick, furious snapping, like the noise of a miniature
fusillade. A score of the matches had been ignited by Nick's swift move.

Almost instantly a shriek of terror broke from Cervera's lips, and she
reeled back, clutching wildly at her skirts.

"My God! I'm on fire!--on fire!" she screamed, with a voice so intense
in its agony as to have chilled a man of stone.

A roar came from Nick as he sighted the flames under her gown.

"Release me! Release me!" he thundered, furiously, with a voice that
drowned her frightful screams. "Cut me loose--loose! It's your only
hope--your only hope!"

She heard him like one in a nightmare of agony and terror, and her
instinct rather than her reason responded to his thundering commands.

Still with the poniard in her jeweled hand, still shrieking wildly, she
leaped to his side, and with a single sweep of the keen weapon severed
the rope binding his arms.

Then Nick snatched the poniard from her hand. With several swift cuts
and slashes he released his limbs, and sprang quickly to his feet.

He had already shaped his course. He had observed on the sulphur
barrels, near the wall, a strip of matting,