lone.

They came next to the spare-room, and again the Colonel was the one to
enter and look carefully round. Was it not partly in his liege lady's
own interests, and for _her_ sake, he was assuring himself that no
dangerous intruder lurked in her home and she might sleep in peace?

Then was the turn of Barbara's own room--the sacred temple that
enshrined his treasure!

This time he had kept the candle in his hand. Barbara had made no offer
to take it back; she feared the trembling of her hand might betray her.
Wrought up to a pitch of suspense at which every nerve quivered like a
tense chord, she yet by a desperate effort controlled her features and
steadied her step, but she felt she could not keep her fingers from
trembling. Colonel Jeff's comrade remained as before, standing in the
open doorway, while the Colonel, accompanied by Barbara, stepped into
the room.

As he strode forward she kept near him; it seemed that she could not let
him move an arm's length from her. It took all her self-command to
refrain from flinging herself between him and the cupboard door. Wild
thoughts of appealing to his mercy shot like lightning through her
brain. If only his comrade on the threshold had not been there watching!
With that man looking on, the frail, frail hope would be lost if she
betrayed any sign of fear or agitation.

Colonel Jeff stood casting his keen glance, around. Barbara stood like a
statue, all her life in her strained eyes, as she followed his glance.

Colonel Jeff's eye fell on the cupboard door. He moved towards it. As he
did so, he chanced to turn his look on Barbara's face and met her eyes.
A swift and sudden change passed for a moment over his own rough-hewn
features; his dark eyes blazed upon her with an instant's startled,
piercing scrutiny; he set his hand on the cupboard door. And still
Barbara stood paralyzed, rooted to the ground as if the unveiled horror
of the Gorgon's stare had struck her to stone.

Her lips moved, but no sound came from them. In the whirl of thought
that dazed her she remembered that she did not know, she had never
asked, if Desmond was armed! A desperate man turns at bay, and sells his
life dearly. What if Oliver had a knife or pistol clutched _now_, this
moment, in his hand? What if he shot or stabbed Rick Jeffreys before
the Colonel could draw his own weapon? There would be a moment's
horror--and Rick, her own true, loyal lover, stricken down at her feet,
and Oliver, whom